


Where the Heart Is

by MrProphet



Series: Home [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 11:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 65,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10718316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet





	1. Where the Heart Is

Jack O'Neill was never thrilled when events conspired to take him into the infirmary at the SGC, since it usually meant one of three things: Either he had been shot, stabbed, bludgeoned or infected with an alien virus; or one of his team had been shot, stabbed, bludgeoned or infected with same; or Dr Fraiser wanted to run yet _another_ barrage of tests on the SG field teams to see if Gate travel caused cancer, or brain damage, or cooties. Any which way, he did not like being there.

Today's visit however had all others trumped, because not only did he not feel he needed to be in the infirmary, he was not even supposed to be in the SGC. He had been rudely recalled from a hard-earned, Thanksgiving fishing trip by a USAF Lieutenant in a helicopter, and informed that SG-1 had been assigned a top-level mission. Only when they were airborne, with no way for Jack to escape, did the Lieutenant start referring to it as a top-level _diplomatic_ mission. Jack had been livid. SG-1 were not a diplomatic team, and he had gone out of his way to provide the Lieutenant with an object example of the reasons why this was so.

His arguments - and even a few direct orders - had been of no avail. General Hammond had ordered SG-1 recalled for a diplomatic assignment, and so it was.

On arrival at the SGC, he had learned that the assignment had been transferred from SG-2, under his old comrade and friend, Louis Ferretti, due to that team's 'incapacity'. That was why Jack had come to the infirmary: to give Ferretti a piece of his mind. Dr Fraiser gave him five minutes, and since none of Ferretti's team had actually died, Jack wound himself up to deliver as much abuse as possible in that short time. That was before he saw Ferretti.

"Hello, Colonel," Ferretti said.

"Ferretti?" Jack asked, uncertainly.

Ferretti smiled. Or at least Jack thought he did; all he could see was the Major's eyes, and that made it a little hard to be sure. "Yeah; it's me. Sorry I'm not saluting, by the way." Ferretti wore a plaster mask over much of his face, and a cast on his right arm.

"What happened to you?"

"Got caught in the opening blast from a staff weapon. Flash-fried my face; third-degree burns all over. Doc says it'll heal up okay, but I ain't pretty at the moment."

"You're never pretty," Jack quipped.

"Last mission turned into a real furball," Ferretti went on. "A whole gang of Jaffa turned up on the planet right after we did. We had to blast our way out."

"You were just trying to get out of this diplomatic thing, weren't you?"

Ferretti raised his hands as much as he was able. "You got me, Colonel. I got my entire team shot full of holes on a barren rock just this side of Hell to get out of babysitting an ambassador to a paradise planet."

"Paradise planet?"

"P4G-128," Ferretti replied. "Arcadia. Ain't you been briefed yet?"

"Thirteen hundred," Jack replied. Suddenly this didn't sound so bad.

"So you haven't met the new girl?" Jack raised his eyebrows, questioningly. "Good kid; did well under fire. You'll like her." There was an almost mischievous note in Ferretti's voice.

"What...?" Jack began, but Dr Fraiser stuck her head around the corner of the screen at that moment.

"Time's up, Colonel. Major Ferretti needs to rest."

"Just one second," Jack replied. "Ferretti, who's this..."

But Ferretti assayed an exaggerated yawn under his plasters. "Sorry, Colonel," he said. "Gotta get my rest; doctor's orders."

"Sleep well," Jack said. "Hey, Doc: How long before he's well enough for me to punch him?"

"A while yet," Dr Fraiser assured him, steering him away from the bedside. "Now out. You're always eager enough to leave when I want you to stay in here."

"Did you meet the ambassador yet?" Ferretti called.

"Nuh-uh."

"Oh. You'll _really_ like him," Ferretti assured him, with a laugh.

 

Jack strode into the briefing room, and greeted his assembled team.

"Hey Daniel; Teal'c; Cart..." He did a double-take. "You're not Carter," he told the woman sitting at the briefing table.

"Sam's still on leave," Daniel explained. "Remember, Dr Fraiser said she had to take at least two weeks?" Jack nodded, slowly. He did recall something of the kind. Dr Fraiser had been on both Carter and Daniel's cases about the amount of 'leave' they spent working eighteen hour days in the SGC labs, tinkering with alien artefacts, and deciphering the instructions telling you not to tinker with the alien artefacts respectively; and all too often in that order.

"Then why are you here?"

"I had to take at least a week; that ran out two days ago, so they were able to recall me." Daniel actually sounded excited at the prospect of a diplomatic mission, which made sense. It gave him a chance to talk to people and study their culture first hand, which was pretty much his idea of heaven. This scared Jack, so he turned his attention to the strange woman. She was wearing a USAF uniform, and her hair was cut in a chic, just-barely-regulation style, a lot like Carter's, and from the back the mistake was easy enough to make. However, her hair was much darker, and her pips were those of a lieutenant, not a major. She was also maybe ten years younger than Carter, and presumably was Ferretti's 'new girl'.

"So if you're not Carter, who are you?" Jack asked.

The woman stood sharply to attention, suddenly enough to make Daniel jump, and snapped off a quick salute. "Kawalsky, Sir; Lieutenant A. SG-2, on temporary assignment to SG-1."

Jack looked over the ramrod straight figure, taking in the mischievous curl at the corner of her mouth, while he tried to mentally strip another ten years off her age. " _Amy_ Kawalsky?"

"Sir; yes, Sir."

"At ease, before you break something," Jack replied. Amy Kawalsky sat back in her chair. "Weren't you in pigtails, last time I saw you."

"No, Sir," she replied. "Last time would be Charlie's memorial service. I had a ponytail." _Of course_ , Jack thought, remembering the sad, sombre girl standing beside her mother, at the memorial service of Major Charles Kawalsky; Jack's best and oldest friend. Kawalsky had died while serving in the position Ferretti now filled; killed by Teal'c after his body was taken over by a Goa'uld. Having died on active duty with a covert unit, the full details of Kawalsky's death had never been released to his family, but presumably Amy would have been made aware of them at the time of her assignment to the SGC. Jack was surprised that she could sit so calmly - cheerfully even - in the same room as the man who killed her brother.

"Amy will be taking Sam's place on SG-1 for this mission," Daniel explained. Daniel must have met Amy at the memorial service. Although he had only known Kawalsky for a few days, it had seemed appropriate that he be there, along with Jack and Ferretti; the only other survivors of the mission to Abydos. He had been - apart from Amy - the only civilian at the service. The Kawalsky's were an Air Force family; father, mother, and Amy's six brothers all.

"Well; welcome aboard," Jack said, a little tightly. Daniel gave him a troubled look, but at that moment General Hammond entered the briefing room. Jack and Amy stood to attention; Daniel and Teal'c just stood. The General was followed by a woman in a severe, charcoal grey suit. She had dark brown hair gathered back into a tight braid, wore a pair of large, wire-rimmed glasses and carried a briefcase. She certainly looked the part for the diplomatic corps, but she seemed too young to be the ambassador. Besides; hadn't Ferretti said O'Neill would like _him_.

"As you were," Hammond ordered, settling his heavy frame into the top chair. The woman sat on his left, facing most of SG-1 as they took their seats. As soon as she was seated, she took a file folder from her briefcase and set it precisely square to the table edge in front of her. "I'm sorry to have to call you in from leave, Dr Jackson; Teal'c. But this assignment is considered to be of the utmost importance."

 _So what am I_ , Jack wondered. _Chopped liver?_

"This is Ms Jacqueline Rede, our Junior Diplomatic Liaison," Hammond continued. "Who will be accompanying you to P4G-128."

"Ah, nuts," Jack muttered, under his breath.

"Is there a problem?" Hammond asked, pointedly.

"No, Sir," Jack replied, with false brightness. "Just raring to take another civilian on an off-world jaunt. Y'know; because it always works out so well."

"I assure you, I won't be a burden, Colonel," Ms Rede said, primly. "On the contrary, I think you will find my assistance invaluable." She pushed her folder crooked, then set it straight again. "Besides which, P4G-128 is quite safe." Jack groaned. "What?" Rede asked.

"Just...Never say that," Daniel advised. "It's bad luck." Rede looked sceptical. "No; really. It never fails."

"Can we have a tank for this mission?" Jack asked. "Do we have any tanks?"

"No tanks, Colonel," Hammond replied. "And you will listen to Ms Rede, and follow her advice. That's an order."

"Yes, Sir," Jack responded.

"Good. Now, Dr Jackson, would you proceed?"

"Uh. Sure," Daniel replied. "I mean I haven't had much time to prepare for this, but..." He shuffled through some papers on the table, his stack of notes a disordered clutter compared to Rede's obsessively straightened folder. "Yes. Arcadia - that is, P4G-128 - was first contacted about two months ago by SG-2. The continent on which the Stargate is located has a mixture of temperate forest and grassland. Rich ecosystem, low pollution; basically a nice place to live. The locals are humans, and call themselves Thebans. Thebes was an ancient Egyptian city, but named after a Greek city-state, and in this case the society seems to have a Greek basis, but with considerable independent evolution. Generally their technology is less advanced than Earth's, but they seem to have access to an abundant, clean, low-maintenance power source.

"Until recently they seem to have been ruled by a Goa'uld named Helios." Daniel turned to Teal'c for expansion.

"Helios was a servant of Cronus; a very minor one," the Jaffa told them. "He was once in high favour, and was given the governorship of Arcadia, a very popular Goa'uld hunting preserve at the time. However, Helios mismanaged the planet's resources, and its value to the Goa'uld was used up when the numbers of game species fell. Cronus suffered a loss of prestige when no other System Lords wished to visit Arcadia. He was displeased with his servant, and Helios was forbidden to leave the planet again; forced to live with his failure. Most of his forces were given into the command of Cronus' other servants."

"Well, Arcadia is a region in ancient Greece, famed for its pastoral beauty and frolicking shepherdesses," Daniel continued. "Which seems appropriate for a planet that was basically a Goa'uld pleasure park. It is also widely associated with various fringe historical theories regarding the Catharist heretics and the Knights Templar, which even _I_ think are pretty far fetched. Although if anyone sees any Maltese crosses or severed head symbols, let me know.

"But I digress. The Arcadians were fairly glad to see the back of Helios, but they really don't know where he went or why..."

"Which is where we come in," Rede interrupted. "The ruling council of P4G-128 want to make an alliance with the SGC. They want our help in protecting the planet in the event of Helios' return, and in understanding the technology that powers their cities."

"City," Daniel interjected. Plainly annoyed by her interruption, it came out rather snide. Rede looked just as aggravated to be caught out on this point. "There's only one city in the region ruled by the Theban Heptarchy, and the rural communities aren't on the power grid. Also, the Heptarchy are a local, not a planetary government. We haven't had any chance to explore more than a few miles from the Gate."

"City; thank you Dr Jackson," Rede amended, frostily. "Under Helios, the generators were maintained by Jaffa engineers, and the Heptarchy are worried that now they will degrade. They would also like our assistance in expanding the existing distribution grid to the outlying agricultural settlements. These negotiations are to establish what - if anything - they can offer us in return."

"Well, that's all very nice," Jack replied. "But I think we'd better leave the negotiating to the Ambassador. Maybe you should just save the details for him."

"We have, Colonel O'Neill," Hammond assured him.

"It seems that the Thebans are not unaware of interplanetary affairs." Rede continued, smiling just a little too much. "In the formal request for negotiations sent by the Heptarch, paragraph five states: 'The Heptarch asks that the Tau'ri assign as ambassador, if at all possible, the famed and respected negotiator, Colonel Jack O'Neill. It is the Heptarch's feeling that the man who negotiated his planet's inclusion in the Protected Planets Treaty would be considered a most trustworthy emissary by all of our people.'"

"No. Way." Jack faced Hammond squarely, trying to ignore Daniel's barely contained mirth at this new development.

"I don't recall asking your permission, Colonel."

"With all due respect, General, when I negotiated that treaty, I almost took the planet to war with my opening address."

"Which is why Ms Rede has been assigned as your diplomatic aide," Hammond explained.

Rede smiled brightly at Jack, and his dislike of the woman slid up another notch. "I told you that you would find my assistance invaluable," she said, either braver than she looked or oblivious to the dangerous gleam in Jack's eye.

Daniel evidently spotted the look, because he intervened with a slight cough. "The Heptarchy," he said, anxious to change the subject. "Is a council of governors. Formally, there is a ruling couple - the Heptarch; a man who is responsible for foreign and military policy, and the Pythoness; a woman responsible for domestic and religious policy - and seven elected magistrates who form a sort of legislature and supreme court, and who have to approve all of the policy decisions made by the rulers. Each of the magistrates is elected from a different district: three from the city, and four from the rural areas."

"Doesn't sound like a very fair split," Jack commented.

"The rural areas are more sparsely populated," Lieutenant Kawalsky informed him. "But the breakdown is largely according to tax districts, which are set out by revenue. Although the economy is primarily agrarian, the traders and landlords are mostly resident in the city, for reasons of status, and because that's where the action is - politically speaking. Thus the city is richer than the farming communities, and contains much smaller tax districts. Sir," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"That's a pretty complex analysis for a soldier," Jack commented.

"I took my degree in political and social anthropology before I joined the Air Force, Sir," she replied, undaunted. "Minored in geoeconomics."

"Most of what I have on this culture comes from Lieutenant Kawalsky's notes, Jack," Daniel added. "In fact, she can probably give you a better view on this one than I can."

Kawalsky looked almost bashful. "Well, Sir," she said, looking to General Hammond for the okay. He nodded, slightly, although Rede looked peeved to be sidelined. "The Thebans have a fairly primitive social structure. Living under Goa'uld rule, they've never needed much else. The Heptarchy is probably more of a holdover from their ancient ancestors than a current and valid political system, the whole thing perpetuated purely to administer the flow of revenue back to the Goa'uld governor. The Pythoness is a priestess of Helios, and so the role is somewhat out of favour at the moment, politically speaking. The current Pythoness is also very young, and pretty much dominated by the Heptarch.

"The real power lies with the magistrates, because they control the districts, and can deny any policy made by the two rulers. So far as I could tell, the magistrates were in the Heptarch's pocket, since he has the money and is prepared to spend it to keep their good will. Politically then, he's the man to make a deal with, but the Pythoness still has the popular support. The magistrates view her as a relic of Helios' rule, but the people saw her as an intercessory to the Gods, and a lot of them now seem to believe that she made the Jaffa go away.

"The Theban army is composed almost entirely of foreign mercenaries; like the French Foreign Legion."

"Or the Byzantine Varangian Guard," Daniel said.

"I think so," Kawalsky replied. "But I don't know too much about them."

"Viking warriors, hired as bodyguards by the Emperors of Constantinople."

"Sounds like these guys. Anyway, they come from away over the sea, and no-one trusts them. Apparently they never worshipped Helios, and have always been at odds with the priestesses. There were always a few of them around, but the Heptarch hired a bunch of them after the departure of the Jaffa, and now there are a lot more of them and they're starting to settle down. This makes the common people lean more towards the Pythoness, but as there is no standing domestic army or militia, it gives the Heptarch all of the muscle. Come the next election the current magistrates are in a rocky spot, and if a bunch who are sympathetic to the Pythoness get in, the Heptarch could be in trouble. On the other hand, that could lead to a civil war if the Heptarch uses the mercenaries to try and buck the system."

"Sounds like just the kind of man the US is used to dealing with," Daniel commented, dryly. Kawalsky and Jack hid their smiles as Hammond frowned.

Kawalsky gathered her self-possession and continued: "Overall...Well, you'll need to make your deal with the Heptarch, but if you want relations to last, you'll have to do it without treading on the Pythoness' toes."

"If I shot myself in the leg..." Jack began.

"You're going out there to negotiate, Colonel," Hammond told him. "Not to fight. If FDR could take meetings in a wheelchair, so can you."

"FDR took his country into the Second World War from a wheelchair."

"Don't worry, Colonel," Rede said, with another bright smile. "We have several hours before we're due to leave for P4G-128. I'm sure I can have you up to speed by then."

"Wonderful. Can't wait to get started," Jack replied, with transparently false enthusiasm. "General. May I have a word in private before my study session?"

"Certainly. You leave for Arcadia at nineteen hundred. The rest of you, review the files on Theban etiquette and culture. They're limited, but I want to minimise the risk of any...unpleasant diplomatic incidents. Dismissed." Amy saluted before leaving; Daniel and Teal'c followed her out, Daniel gathering his papers and shooting a sympathetic glance at Jack on his way. Rede was still grinning like a rat trap.

"I'll wait for you outside, Colonel," she said, replacing the unopened folder in her briefcase.

 

"What's on your mind, Colonel O'Neill?" Hammond asked.

"General. You are aware that this is nuts, aren't you?"

"I have every confidence in your ability to perform this mission to your usual standards, Colonel," Hammond replied.

Jack frowned. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that I believe you are just the man for the job."

"Well, I'm flattered by your faith in me, General. My ability aside, do I have to take Ms Rede with me? If the Thebans find her half as annoying as I do, that could be a huge mistake."

"Ms Rede is eminently qualified for this mission. She has assisted on three successful offworld diplomatic missions to date."

"How many unsuccessful?"

"Colonel, this is the US Air Force, not High School. You will work with the personnel assigned to you, whether you like them or not."

"I know that, General. But if the conflict of personalities or priorities reduces the effectiveness of my unit, I have a duty to report it."

"I don't believe it will," Hammond assured him. "Give her a chance, Colonel. She's very good at her job."

"Well, accepting that you are inflexible on this point as well, and moving on to number three, what is Amy Kawalsky doing in my unit?"

"You have a problem with the Lieutenant, Colonel?"

"She's the kid sister of a best friend I couldn't keep from being killed; I call that a conflict of interests. Also, since Teal'c actually killed her brother, I worry for the stability of the unit, Sir."

"Both valid points, Colonel," Hammond accepted. "However, I have spoken to both Teal'c and Lieutenant Kawalsky, and they feel that they will be able to operate without any difficulties. I assure you, the Lieutenant blames the Goa'uld for what happened to her brother, not Teal'c.

"As for any conflict of interests, I admit I would have doubts about sending Amy Kawalsky into combat under your command. But on this mission, I feel the advantages of having a member of SG-2 with experience of the local area and customs on the team outweighs the risk."

"Which is why Ferretti got the duty first." Jack frowned. "That all sounds swell, Sir. But there is one more thing bothering me: Why is she even in the SGC? Given what happened to her brother, isn't it a risk that she might be looking for vengeance?"

"A risk, but I don't believe that's it. Talk to her, Colonel. And trust her. She's young, but she's a good officer."

"Perfect record?"

"Good scores," Hammond replied, smiling. "And plenty of commendations for her age. Plenty of warnings and disciplinary hearings as well. As a matter of fact, her record reads a lot like yours."

"Wonderful," Jack groaned. "Y'know, my team all had plans for Thanksgiving," he added.

"I'm sorry, Colonel. But with SG-2 out of the picture, I need my best unit on this."

"I envy Carter her enforced leave," Jack replied. "Uh-oh."

"Colonel."

"Nothing, Sir. Just we were all invited to have dinner at Carter's brother's house; sort of as back-up for Jacob. I was five minutes from packing up my bait and leaving for the airport when I got your message. I figured we were all being recalled, so I didn't stop to phone my apologies."

"Well, Colonel. Best get to it." 

Outside the office, Rede was waiting, but Jack blew straight past her.

"Colonel O'Neill," she called after him.

"Meet me in the mess hall in fifteen minutes," he shouted back. "I've got some tricky diplomacy to take care of."

*

Major Samantha Carter sat tensely in an armchair in her brother's front room. The chair was comfortable, as was all of Mark's house, but she was not. Given that her father's reconciliation with Mark was still so recent, she had been doubtful all along whether Thanksgiving - traditional time of blazing family rows and sullen silences - was the best holiday on which to attempt a family get together. She had leaped at the chance when Mark had asked her to bring any friends from work, figuring that having the gang along might help to diffuse tension, and she was wishing now that they had been able to make it.

Daniel and Teal'c had both called yesterday to explain that they had been recalled to the SGC and would have to cancel. She had some hopes that the Colonel might still make it - if nothing else, he could help to bridge the gap by talking sports with both Mark and Jacob - but he had called just six hours ago, leaving her and her father to brave the meal alone.

At first, it had seemed it would not be so bad. She arrived a little early, and chatted amiably with Mark and his wife, Laura, until Jacob arrived. It had actually been something of a shock to see her father in regular, casual clothes instead of either uniform, or more often nowadays his Tok'ra ensemble, but to Sam's delight he and Mark had been easy and relaxed around each other. Jacob had paid the usual compliments to Laura, and expressed his regret that the kids were not at home - they were both having Thanksgiving with friends; Sam suspected this was to keep them clear of any potential fireworks - and in general had seemed just like a regular father and son.

The problem today was not Jacob and Mark; it was Jacob and Sam. For some reason that Sam could not fathom, her father was barely speaking to her, and he refused to meet her gaze. He seemed stiff and ill-at-ease around her, and when Mark and Laura picked up on the vibe, the whole room began to get uncomfortable. It was still about half an hour until dinner - Sam knew because she had asked Laura ten minutes ago, and fifteen minutes before that - and the atmosphere was tense to say the least. Mark seemed to be feeling that his old assessment of his father had been right all along, and Jacob looked as if he were regretting letting Selmak talk him into getting in touch with Mark at all. Occasionally Laura would try to spark up the conversation again, but so far without success. It did not help that Jacob and Sam could only answer 'so what have you been doing', with their cover stories about deep space radar telemetry. When questioned about her love life, Sam had just looked awkward.

The knock at the door came as a huge relief to everybody. As Laura went to answer, Sam prayed that it would be Jack, or Daniel, or even Teal'c; trying to explain his tattoo would at least be conversation. Whoever it was, Sam was certain that their presence could not make the afternoon any worse.

"Please, come through," Laura was saying. "And you'll join us for dinner, won't you?" Sam might have been projecting, but she could have sworn she heard a note of desperation in her sister-in-law's voice. The answer was too soft to be heard, but Sam could tell that it was a woman's voice. Not one of her colleagues then. "No, really. We were expecting more people. It's no trouble at all," Laura assured the visitor.

"That's very kind of you. If you're sure I'm not intruding," the visitor replied, with a soft, Gallic accent. Sam pricked up her ears at the sound. Surely it couldn't be...

"Sam!" The young woman greeted her in obvious relief, stepping forward with open arms. After a moment's shock, Sam stood up and embraced her, completely baffled.

"Anat?"

"Anna," Anat whispered.

"Anna? This is...a surprise," she admitted.

"I'm sorry to barge in like this," the girl said, stepping back. "I've been looking all over. I need to talk to you," she added. Mark had stood, and was looking at Sam expectantly.

"Mark," Sam said, thinking quickly. "This is Anna. She's a researcher with SETI - the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence," she added, knowing that Mark would know what SETI was, but that Anat might not. She was after all from another universe. "We met at a telescope array in France. The Interferometer at Plateau de Bure. Anna; my brother, Mark, and his wife, Laura."

"Pleased to meet you," Anat said, shaking hands with the two of them.

"Likewise," Mark assured her, looking at her hand a little oddly.

"And my father, Jacob." 

Anat turned, and looked at Jacob with something close outright awe. "It is an honour, Sir," she said. "I have heard so much about you." _Of course_ , Sam thought. H _e's a resistance hero where she comes from._

"Really," Jacob replied, looking at her with open suspicion, and refusing to take her proffered hand. Sam wondered why for a moment, but then she saw. Anat was wearing a Goa'uld hand device. She bit her lip, nervously.

"Dad," Mark said, darkly.

Jacob looked at his son, then back at Anat. "Nothing bad I hope," he said, relenting. Anat beamed, and he returned a tight smile. Sam looked back at Mark, and caught him exchanging a knowing look with Laura which gave her pause. She smiled at Anat, trying to ignore all of the shivers of premonition that were running up her spine.

_*_

"Remember, Colonel; the Heptarch is addressed as 'your Lordship', the Pythoness as 'Grace'..."

"...and the magistrates as Archon. I got it, already."

SG-1 were standing on the Stargate runway, ready to depart. Jack was wearing field fatigues, and carrying a suit-holder with his dress uniform inside. The Stargate was apparently some distance from the city, and so he was to travel there before changing for his meeting with the Heptarchy. Rede was wearing a similar outfit, but without rank markings, just like those Teal'c and Daniel wore. She had replaced her glasses with a smaller, more flattering pair, but still looked very severe. Daniel and Teal'c stood behind them, and in any other situation, the idea of Danny being part of a military escort would have been funny as hell. Jack wished he had time to laugh, but he was too busy learning his Theban etiquette.

"Please take this seriously, Colonel," Rede implored, looking at him over the top of her glasses. "It is very important." Jack knew exactly how important it was. Rede had spent the last six hours drilling into him just how important it was. At least one of the other continents on Arcadia appeared to have a rich and largely untapped source of Naquada, she had told him. In order to gain access to this source, the SGC required a small base of operations in Theban territory, and the ability to move freight freely through to the Gate, and it would be easiest if they did not tip their hand by letting the Heptarchy know how much they wanted this base. It all seemed very dishonest to Jack - he was trained in clandestine ops, and was quite prepared to deceive the Goa'uld or the likes of Colonel Maybourne, but was never happy lying for the sake of it - but orders were, he supposed, orders.

"It's a sobering sight," Daniel said to Teal'c. The Jaffa turned to him and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Seeing someone else pestering Jack like that," he explained. Teal'c continued looking at him. "Sam would have got it," Daniel said, shifting the weight of his P-90. In spite of hours of training, and although he understood the reasons, it never felt natural for him to carry a gun.

With a blast of vapour, the Stargate opened, the event horizon settling gently into place, and Amy led off. It was felt that the first through the Gate should be one of the escort, but that a Jaffa would send the wrong message, and Daniel just did not look the part. Jack followed close behind, glad that both Amy and Rede had been offworld before. Although generally the SGC computers were reliable, occasionally the drift calculations would be off by a few decimal places, and nothing would cripple what little diplomatic credibility Jack had like his escort and his aide popping out of the Gate, shivering and retching.

On the other side of the Gate, a welcoming committee was waiting, and like most of the welcoming committees Jack had encountered in his time with the SGC, it was armed to the teeth. A large, bulky man, dressed in long robe, belted at the waist, led the party, followed by fifteen soldiers. The soldiers wore armour; breastplates, greaves and bracers, all of what looked like highly polished, or possibly lacquered, bronze. They carried what looked like half-sized staff weapons, which they held smartly at their sides. They were mostly young, but looked capable and professional.

Jack stepped forward as the Gate closed behind Teal'c and Daniel, Amy stepping aside to let him and the big man approach each other.

"Greetings, Jack O'Neill," the man said. He had a stern, unfriendly face, and seemed an odd choice for the welcome wagon. Maybe he had some crazy idea that Jack had been sent to weasel valuable concessions and give peanuts in return. "I am Palmys; Magistrate of the third quarter. I bid you welcome to Thebes." He gave a short, but formal bow, which Jack returned - stiffly - before responding.

"Greetings, Archon Palmys. Nice to be here." Jack was aware of Rede's quick look behind his back, but he had followed the forms before departing from them.

Archon Palmys smiled, but without much humour. "You seem a man of plain speech," he said, nodding. "I like that. I am distrustful of politicians and diplomats. Follow us; we shall escort you to the Council Hall." Jack turned and smiled at Rede as the Magistrate led off, the soldiers flanking their guests protectively.

"You're deliberately making my job difficult," she accused.

"No; you make the job difficult," Jack retorted. "All you gotta do is talk to people, and you have to put in all these forms and formalities. It speeds everything up if you cut to the chase."

"I know what I'm doing," Rede fumed. "You got lucky this time, but please..."

"Relax, Jackie. I'm not going to derail the talks. Just trying to make a few friends while I'm here. That's what we're doing, right? Making friends?"

"Don't call me Jackie," Rede growled. Obviously Jack had touched a nerve. "I hate it."

"Fair enough," Jack allowed, backing off.

Amy, meanwhile, had dropped back to join the rest of the escort. The soldiers were eyeing Teal'c with some suspicion, obviously unhappy with the presence of the Jaffa.

"Doesn't this strike you as odd?" Amy asked Daniel.

"Jack as a diplomat. I'd say so."

"The number of guards," she said. "Seems a lot of bodies for a diplomatic escort on a peaceful planet."

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed. "Perhaps there are enemies of the Heptarchy in this area. It is possible that the Goa'uld-sponsored government has fallen from favour." Amy pursed her lips, worriedly.

"If that were the case, why not tell us?" Daniel asked. "We might have needed a bigger escort for our ambassador."

"If they want stuff from Earth, they wouldn't want to show weakness by admitting to being a minority government," Amy pointed out. "But I didn't get a sense of that from the people when we were here before. The Heptarch seemed unpopular, but that was because of the way he took power. The magistrates and the Pythoness were doing just fine."

"How did the Heptarch take power?" Daniel asked.

"Well, the Heptarch is the Pythoness' husband. The current holder of the title was married to the old Pythoness, and when she died - not long after Helios' disappearance - he should have stepped down, but instead he married the new Pythoness. The rumour was that he somehow forced her into the wedding to keep his power." Daniel's hands tightened into fists, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine. I'm just unhappy with that idea. Personal reasons."

"I think I understand. Major Ferretti told me some of what happened to your wife. When he was telling me about Charles," she explained. Daniel nodded his understanding.

The 'ambassador' and his escort were led to a pair of open-topped cars, each with a driver. The Magistrate and four guards went in the lead car, while the visitors were offered the second and larger. The remaining soldiers climbed aboard a small transport truck which followed the cars.

"Y'know," Jack said, settling into the seat. "I can't remember the last planet we went to which had cars." He and Rede sat facing backwards, while Daniel, Teal'c and Amy had squeezed into the seats opposite.

"Earth," Daniel told him. "I haven't seen any others."

"Colonel," Amy interrupted their musings, cutting off another attempt by Rede to furnish Jack with some last minute diplomacy tips. "I'm worried about the number of guards they sent to meet us."

"I agree, O'Neill," Teal'c said. "Either the Heptarchy is not truly in control of this area, or they expected enemies instead of friends to step through the Chappa'ai."

"They were friendly enough to SG-2," Rede noted.

Amy nodded. "And we didn't give them reason to be otherwise. Have there been any other teams through the Stargate since then?"

Rede shook her head. "But if they're nervous about something, then all the more reason to maintain good diplomatic form," she said, pointedly.

"Alright. I'll work on my manners," Jack agreed, as much for a quiet life as anything. "Teal'c Daniel, Kawalsky; you keep your eyes out for anything unusual."

After a journey of about twenty minutes, the cars rolled into a city of wood-beamed houses. Daniel gazed around in amazement, wondering at the adaptation of Greek architecture into the medium enforced by the forested surroundings. People in the streets stopped to watch the convoy pass, the looks they gave ranging from the merely curious to the outright hostile.

"Well, they don't seem all that friendly to me," Daniel murmured to himself.

After another ten minutes, the cars pulled up outside a large structure; the only building they had seen that was constructed primarily in stone, not wood. Three years ago, it would have been impressive to Daniel, but while its beauty could not be denied, he had seen so many grander palaces in his explorations of the Goa'uld territories that the scale seemed as nothing.

"This is the Council Hall," Archon Palmys told them. "You will be shown to guest quarters so that you may rest and refresh yourselves. The Heptarch will receive you in one hour." He bowed a farewell, which Jack and Rede returned. As they entered the hall, Daniel wore a troubled expression.

"Something wrong?" Amy asked.

"I just thought...I thought I saw someone in one of the alleys, a few blocks back."

"Someone in particular?"

"Not exactly. But it looked almost as if they were wearing an SGC uniform."

*

"She was being so polite, just scooting out of reach all the time. And there's my Dad, trying to back her into a corner." Sam squirmed as Anat regaled her family with the 'hilarious' tale of Setesh's attempt to seduce her. She omitted a few details, and called her father 'Stan', but enough of it was true to be deeply uncomfortable. Mark and Laura seemed to think it was riotously funny though, and a fine repayment for the equally humiliating tale of 'Sam and the woodwork class at summer camp'. Sam was not sure why the conversation had turned to embarrassing episodes in her life, but at least it seemed to have broken the ice again. Even Jacob was smiling, although still casting worried glances at the girl with the Goa'uld weapon.

"So you came all the way from France to visit Sam?" Laura was asking.

"Yes. But it feels like further."

"That's sweet," Laura said. "Would anyone like more coffee?"

Laura and Mark stepped out to refill the pot and restack the dishwasher, the first time they had both been out of the room since Anat's arrival.

Immediately, the girl's smile faded and she became very serious. "You are Tok'ra?" She asked Jacob.

He looked surprised at the question. "Yes," he replied, suspiciously. "And you are?"

"Dad," Sam answered. "This is Setesh-ta Anat. I met her in a parallel universe and she saved my life; not to mention my virtue."

Anat smiled thinly. "My pleasure," she said.

"And Anat, this is Jacob-Selmak, Tok'ra liaison to the Tau'ri; among other things."

"Jacob Carter _and_ Selmak," Anat breathed, awed.

"You're both famous where she comes from," Sam explained.

"Alright," Jacob said. "Leaving aside that I'm not really clear where that is, what brings you to our neck of the woods?"

"I need to talk to Sam, or one of the other members of SG-1," Anat explained. "I have very bad..." She broke off as Laura returned, and the three of them tried to look natural.

"Everything okay?" Laura asked, solicitously. They all nodded and assured her that everything was. As she stepped back out for fresh cream, Jacob leaned forward.

"You two make your excuses and go," he told Sam. "I'll meet you in the park down the street as soon as I can."

"Thank you for a lovely dinner," Sam told Laura over the last cup of coffee. "I wish we could stay longer, but Anat and I have to be going now."

"Are you sure," Mark said, with a dark look at Jacob.

Sam felt she was losing her grip on the moods around her. "We have...things to do," she said. "We really have to get going."

"Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you Anna," Laura said. "We hope we'll be seeing you again."

"I'd like that," Anat replied, a little wistfully. "And thank you for having me in at such short notice."

Sam and Anat said their goodbyes, and drove the short distance to the park. Once again, the younger woman had become very sombre as soon as they left the house. They waited with growing concern for Jacob to arrive, and having agreed to do so, Anat seemed reluctant to speak her piece before he joined them. Sam wondered what was keeping her father; she hoped it was just difficulty getting away form Mark and Laura, but Anat's presence, and the gravity the younger woman placed on the situation, were making her paranoid, and it was with considerable relief that she recognised his car approaching.

As her father climbed out of the car, his eyes burned white, and it was with the voice of Selmak that he spoke. "I am sorry to have been so long," the Tok'ra said. "Jacob was unable to get away before your brother gave him a stern talking to."

"Mark? What for?"

"Apparently because this is the twenty-first century, and he should be more accepting of your 'life style choices'." A small smile quirked the corner of her father's mouth. "He felt that Jacob was unforgivably rude to your girlfriend," Selmak added.

Anat gave a short laugh, and even Sam could not stifle a chuckle. "Great. Just great." She sighed. "Well, as much fun as it's been to have my dignity destroyed over the course of the evening; you had something to tell me, Anat?"

"Yes," the girl replied, dourly. "I've come here to give you a warning."

*

Jack examined himself in the mirror, turning slightly to one side. He was wearing the dark blue dress uniform now, and felt uncomfortable with its formality. Daniel entered the foyer of the diplomatic quarters behind him, and came to stand by him at the mirror.

"Not exactly our usual look, is it?" Jack noted.

"I feel like a reject from Men in Black," Daniel replied. He was wearing a neatly-tailored black suit, courtesy of the Secret Service. The lines of the suit were cut to conceal anything up to a small Uzi under the jacket, but Daniel was wearing his P-90 openly. Aside from the fact that carrying concealed weapons seemed a bad way to persuade anyone to trust them, it just would not be his style. Jack wore only a service-issue pistol on his hip.

"Now I remember why I never tried to get into staff politics," Jack agreed. "It's not just the back-stabbing, it's the outfits." As he spoke, Teal'c walked in behind them, dressed in a secret service suit like Daniel's.

"Now you've got the build for that look," Daniel commented.

Teal'c nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Daniel Jackson. Although I must admit I find it a little binding across the shoulders." As if to prove the point, he flexed his shoulders uncomfortably, trying to settle the jacket better.

"It might have been nice to get more time for measurements," Daniel agreed.

Amy - in parade uniform, carrying a P-90 - and finally Rede - wearing a dark blue skirt-suit that matched the uniforms without actually being one - joined them in the foyer.

"We come in peace," Daniel murmured under his breath. With Teal'c carrying his staff weapon, however incongruous it might look, Rede was the only member of the group not armed.

"Come on, Danny. There's a big difference between a little caution and an armed invasion." Daniel shrugged. Jack knew he had been ideologically opposed to the SGC's expeditionary teams going armed from the very first, but while not exactly a practical man, he was pragmatic enough to recognise the necessity; especially after their first run-in with Ra and his Horus Guards on Abydos. For diplomatic missions however, Daniel was convinced that less was more as far as weapons were concerned.

"I just feel we're sending the wrong message," the archaeologist explained.

"And the fifteen armed Hoplites sent what message, precisely?" Amy asked. Daniel shrugged again, not having any good answer. "These people don't trust us," she said. "I don't know why, but it's there, and we have to deal."

"And carrying guns will help them trust us?"

"It is better to err on the side of caution," Teal'c insisted.

"Guys. Can you give us a minute?" Jack asked.

"We are expected," Rede reminded him.

"I know. Just a minute. We'll meet you outside." The young woman relented, and went outside with Teal'c and Amy. "Okay, Daniel . What's bugging you?"

"It's nothing."

"No. It's something. I know you're not a fan of guns, but this is something more. Come on," he coaxed. "You can tell me. We're friends."

"I know, Jack. That's why I don't want to let you down." Jack raised an eyebrow, questioningly. "Come on, Jack. You know I'm not the man for this job. Give me a few days to prepare and I could maybe do Rede's job..."

"And you know I'd rather have you there than her. Or even you here than me. But you're not going to let me down."

"This isn't what I do, Jack. And I'm not happy with it," Daniel explained.

Jack grinned, lopsidedly. "I'll be honest, Daniel. You're not my first choice of bodyguard. In fact, you don't make the top one hundred."

"Well, I'm glad we're having this pep talk."

"But if things go nasty out there, I don't think we'll be shooting our way out. There are just too many of those hop-skips. And if it comes to trying to talk our way out, I'd rather have you out there than anyone else in the world."

"The man who's inspired more orders for heavy Jaffa beatings than any other member of the SGC?" Daniel asked, with a ghost of a grin.

"Well, since these guys don't like the Goa'uld either, maybe that'll give you something in common."

"Thanks, Jack," Daniel said.

"No problem," Jack assured him, as they headed for the door. "Although if things do go pear-shaped, why don't you let me have the weapon."

Joining the others in the hallway, Jack and Daniel were led by Archon Palmys through the building to the great Council Hall, a wide, open space, surrounded by tall stone pillars and roofed in timber. In design it seemed somewhat like the Acropolis in Athens, but beyond the pillars were walls, enclosing the hall. Between the pillars stood the Hoplites, their truncated staff weapons held at the attention. At the far end of the room, six men sat on chairs before a dais, and a seventh stood empty, presumably waiting for Palmys. On the dais itself sat the two rulers, the Heptarch and the Pythoness.

The Heptarch was a powerful man, with iron in his dark hair and steel in his eyes. His bearing was military, and all in all he seemed rather like Jack. The set of his face was grim, but he was handsome in an autocratic fashion. The Pythoness was clearly some twenty or thirty years the junior of the Heptarch; her husband. A slim, pretty girl, barely out of childhood, she wore a troubled expression, and had about her a weary air, too old for her youthful appearance. As Palmys took his seat, Jack saw that he shared the Pythoness' troubled frown, but the other six Archons mirrored the Heptarch's dour look.

"Your Lordship. Your Grace." Jack greeted the two rulers with a bow. "Honoured Archons..." He broke off, as at a signal from the Heptarch, the mercenary guards snapped their weapons to the ready. Amy and Teal'c jumped instantly to the alert, Daniel much slower, but they were effectively and undeniably covered by superior firepower. "Okay . So what did I do wrong?" Jack asked Rede.

"Nothing," she replied. "Your Lordship," she addressed the Heptarch. "What is the meaning of this?" The Heptarch glowered balefully at them, but when Jack shifted his gaze to the Pythoness, she seemed unable to meet his eye. "We came here in good faith..."

"In good faith!" The Heptarch barked. "How dare you lecture us on good faith? You talk of peace and treaties, sending your soldiers to parley with us." He gestured angrily at Amy. "Then send others, this SG-1, to kill our people, and steal our property."

"What!" Jack demanded.

"Even today, while here under a flag of truce, you send two of your soldiers to attack our power plant."

"Jack. Could the NID have another base? One we never found?" Daniel asked. Jack frowned, clearly concerned.

"Your SGC has committed acts of terror, vandalism and murder against the people of Thebes," the Heptarch continued. "And you shall answer for it."

"Our immediate concern must be to return to the Stargate," Teal'c reminded them. "The truth behind these accusations is a matter for another time."

"I agree," Jack replied. "Options? Anyone?"

"If we take a shot, they'll put us down," Amy reported.

"Somehow I don't think the Heptarch has in mind for us to get a fair trial," Daniel added. "So they may just shoot us, even if we surrender. I don't know why we even bother to get dressed up for these things anymore."

"Your Lordship," Rede continued. "We assure you that these accusations are untrue. The SGC has committed no crime against your people. If we surrender our weapons, will you give us an opportunity to prove our innocence?"

"Your question is irrelevant, child." The voice spoke from the shadows behind the rulers' throne. It was a woman's voice, with a sensual quality, but a touch of steel as well. The Thebans in the hall reacted visibly to the sound, even the Heptarch sitting up a little straighter in his chair, while the Pythoness shivered, as though cold.

"Circe." The name was whispered up and down the line of Archons, and among the Hoplites, with a touch of awe.

"As a matter of courtesy we extend to you the opportunity to surrender," the woman continued, stepping with a graceful stride from the concealing darkness. "But our soldiers can take you whether you do so or not." Jack caught his breath at the sight of the woman, but not because of her beauty.

At the edge of his vision, Jack was aware of Teal'c swinging his staff weapon in the woman's direction, but at his movement the Hoplites fired, and the Jaffa fell. The Theban half-staffs fired an energy pulse similar to that of a zat'nik'tel, and although he took several hits, Jack did not think that Teal'c had been killed. Regardless, he was unable to turn and check, his attention riveted on the woman that the Thebans called Circe. She turned her head, and smiled at him, and her true name came unbidden from his lips.

_*_

"Astarte?" Sam asked, alarmed. "She's here?"

"She and a handful of her Jaffa were unaccounted for when Napoleon purged the palace at Giza," Anat explained. "In addition to which, all of your possessions had vanished from storage; we know because we tried to get them back to conceal all traces of your presence."

"Colonel O'Neill did say that she was interested in other universes; and she did read my notes, so...Dad, what do you know about Astarte in this universe?"

"Wife of Setesh; betrayed him when he rebelled against Ra and became one of Ra's Queens. She sided with Heru'ur, and managed to supplant his former Queen, Tawaret, less than a month before his defeat. She disappeared not long after that; it was assumed that she went into hiding or was killed by agents of Apophis or of Tawaret."

"Well, if she was killed, we may have a problem," Sam admitted. "But if not, then your Astarte would have been destroyed by a Temporal Entropic Cascade Failure not long after she crossed over."

"There are ways around that," Anat replied. "But Astarte would likely not have access to those." 

Sam wanted to ask what she meant about 'ways around' TEC Failure, but Selmak interrupted. "What makes you think she would come here?"

"From talking to some of her servants, she expressed a particular interest in SG-1 and Colonel O'Neill prior to her final departure, on the same night that you left our universe. Lately, we learned that a group of individuals, wearing what sound like your uniforms, were seen in the alleyways near to our ring-chamber on that same night."

"And why should you come here, to another universe, for one Goa'uld?"

"She is not just one Goa'uld," Anat replied. "She is Astarte, one of the most cunning and dangerous of all Goa'uld, and she has been unleashed upon your world from ours. SG-1 were instrumental in shifting the balance of power on our Earth, so that the Tau'ri resistance stand a chance against Napoleon, and thus of disrupting the Emperor's efforts to unite the System Lords against the Tok'ra and the Asgard.

"We owe each and every one of them a great debt," the girl continued. "Teal'c freed me from my father's lies; Daniel Jackson showed the Tau'ri that they could be strong, and both Sam and Colonel O'Neill _died_ for us..."

"You died?" This time it was Jacob, rather than Selmak, who interrupted. "Again?"

"Just for half an hour," Sam replied, defensively. "I didn't want to worry you."

"How did you die?"

"Astarte killed me with an axe," Sam admitted.

"And now she's _here_ ," Anat added. "After all they did for us, we weren't going to let _our_ problem mess with _your_ universe. We're here to see that problem fixed, then we'll go home."

"We?" Sam asked.

"My crew and I," Anat explained.

"What will Astarte do, if she is here?" Jacob asked.

"She'll find somewhere to build her strength, then she'll seek an ally to offer her aid to. She'll support that ally in a bid for power, then control him from behind the scenes. If it all goes sour, she'll leave him to take the fall."

"She sounds more cunning than the one in our world," Jacob admitted. "I should take word of this to the Tok'ra Council as soon as possible."

"And I have to warn the SGC."

"Then we should head back to the Mountain," Jacob agreed. "I can Gate back to the Tok'ra base."

Sam nodded. "I'm supposed to stay on vacation for a few more days, but I think this counts as an emergency." Jacob smiled, knowing that returning to the SGC was practically going home for Sam. "We'll need to move our tickets up, then..."

Anat interrupted with a small cough. "I could give you a ride," she offered.

*

"I'm afraid that you have me confused with someone else," Astarte assured Jack, solemnly. "My name is Circe, and this land is under my protection. Thus, those who would threaten it are my enemies." Her dark eyes passed across the four humans, flickering warily to the supine Jaffa. "You and your accomplices are now in my custody, Colonel O'Neill, but I offer you the chance to preserve your dignity. Lay down your weapons, and you shall be bound, but leave the hall on your feet. Refuse, and you will be carried."

Jack looked around. He knew fire superiority when he saw it, and the Hoplites had it now, whatever their half-staff weapons actually did. "Do I have your assurance that my people will be treated humanely?"

"We make no promises to terrorists!" The Heptarch snarled, half-rising to his feet.

Astarte laid a hand on his shoulder. "Peace, Aristeias. We are not ogres." She turned to Jack. "Your people will be treated as they deserve," she promised. It was pretty weak, but doubtless the best concession he could extract under the circumstances.

"Do as she says," he ordered, reluctantly. "Lay down your weapons." Slowly and carefully, he drew the pistol from his side and laid it on the ground at his feet. Then he kicked the weapon gently away from him. After a moment's pause, Amy set down her P-90, and followed it with her sidearm.

Oddly, Daniel was the slowest to put down his gun. "You know this is a really bad idea?" He asked Jack.

"Yeah. But all the others are worse."

The Hoplites came forward and gathered up the weapons, then bound the humans' wrists in front of them. "Be careful with O'Neill and the Jaffa," Astarte warned them. "They are dangerous. And that one is also a warrior," she added, gesturing towards Amy with a slender hand. She stepped down as the soldiers secured their prisoners, ignoring the restraining hand of the Heptarch, and stood very close in front of Daniel.

"This one is different," she said. "You must be the scholar; Jackson."

"Doctor. Jackson," Daniel replied stiffly. Jack knew from experience how uncomfortable Astarte's physical proximity could be, and felt sorry for Daniel having to go through this. He also - though he hated himself - felt the tiniest bit jealous. He checked his thoughts, reminding himself that he had not met _this_ Astarte, who called herself Circe.

"My apologies, Doctor." Astarte moved to stand in front of Rede, who evidently found her presence as unsettling as Daniel had. "And who is this?" Astarte wondered aloud.

"Jacqueline Rede. SGC Junior Diplomatic Liaison," Rede told her, voice quavering. "You must believe that there has been a terrible mistake..." With a swift motion, Astarte lifted a finger to the other woman's lips. To her credit, Rede managed to contain herself, and while she flinched, she did not back away. With a slight smile, Astarte moved on to Amy.

"And you are not Samantha Carter," she observed. "Pity." Amy just scowled in response. "Bring them to the palace," Astarte instructed the Hoplites, then turned and swept away into the darkness behind the thrones. The Heptarch scowled down at the prisoners, while the Pythoness sat, pensive, consumed with worry. Plainly at least one person in the room was not a member of the Circe Fan Club.

"What a charmer," Jack commented. The Heptarch snarled. "Peace, Aristeias," Jack told him, aping Astarte.

"Take them away. Get them out of my sight."

The Heptarch and the Pythoness stood aside, and to Jack's surprise, SG-1 found themselves led between the two thrones, into the shadows from which Astarte had emerged, and from there into a tunnel that sloped downwards. Two of the Hoplites had Teal'c by the arms and were dragging him along, while two others trained their weapons on him. Two more watched Amy, and another two stood behind Jack, and a handful of other Hoplites stood by. One stood out from the others, wearing a tall-plumed helm, and was obviously their leader.

"Stay close," this leader instructed his captives, lighting a torch. "The tunnels are winding and branch often. If you get lost, you will never see the light of day again." There was an unpleasant relish in his voice as he spoke the warning.

"I never guessed there were so many ways to die on this planet," Jack commented, as they descended into darkness.

"Well, you know us," Daniel replied. "If there's a way, we'll find it."

"Quiet!" One of the Hoplites clapped Daniel roughly around the back of the head.

"Let them talk," the leader commanded. "There is no one to hear."

"Why is it always me that gets beaten up?" Daniel asked, rhetorically. "Amy. What's this palace they're taking us to?"

"I don't know," the young soldier replied. "No one mentioned a palace last time we were here. I'd hazard that it's Helios' place though."

"Makes sense," Daniel agreed. "Which is more than I can say for Astarte turning up here."

"Come on, Danny boy. We knew there must be an equivalent in our world. It's just coincidence that brings her here."

"Maybe. I didn't meet her in the other universe; just heard of her by reputation. Was she pretty much like this one?"

"Other universe?" Amy asked.

"Long...very long story."

"Parallel universe," Daniel told her.

"Ah-ha."

"Okay. That was the short version," Jack acknowledged. "The long one..."

 

Following behind the others, Jacqueline Rede was feeling disoriented and nauseous. The walls, barely visible by the flicker of torchlight, seemed to press in upon her, crushing and constricting, making it difficult to breathe. The voices of SG-1 seemed to drift into the distance as her head swam. She knew that she was on the verge of outright terror; that the slightest shock would jar her into total nervous collapse.

The voices stopped.

Jacqueline looked up from her feet, and saw the light fading into nothing ahead of her. She ran after it, heart pounding, and her ankle twisted sideways as her heel hit some softer soil. She cried out, but no response came, and now the tunnel was completely dark.

Fighting the panic with every fibre of her being, Jacqueline scrambled forward, hoping to spot the light around the next corner. But in the dark, she did not even know what was a corner and what a straight corridor, and as she struggled on, she struck a division in the centre of the corridor, and knew that it had branched.

The tunnel headed off in two different directions. There was no sign of the torchlight, and no sound of voices. She did not even know if SG-1 had been brought this way, or if she had lost them some time ago.

She was alone...

...lost...

...in the dark.

She screamed.

 

"Did you hear something?" Jack asked.

"No." Daniel replied. Amy shook her head.

"How 'bout you, Ree...Rede?" Jack whispered.

"Where'd she go?" Daniel asked.

Jack shrugged. "Don't draw attention to it. Looks like she got away."

"Great. Put a less likely rescuer than me in the group..." Daniel and Jack shared a knowing smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jack assured his friend. "I've had to rescue you at least as many times as you've had to rescue me. Anyway; all she has to do is get near enough to the gate so she can signal through when they open the wormhole to check up on us."

"Signal with what, Sir?" Amy asked. "They haven't taken our radios, but Rede didn't have one."

"Stupendous."

"But she might find a way to help us on her own," Daniel suggested weakly.

"We're so screwed."

Suspended between two of the guards, Teal'c gave a slight groan that suggested he was returning to consciousness.

"Okay," Jack whispered. "We may be able to add one Jaffa to our list of resources."

"They can add two," Daniel replied, nodding at the passage ahead of them. Sure enough, flanking a large, stone gate, there stood two Jaffa. They wore uniforms unfamiliar to Jack, but there was no mistaking the look of steely determination in their eyes, nor the capable fashion in which they gripped their staff weapons. On the door behind them was depicted a great disk, with a fringed mane of solar rays.

"The symbol of Helios," Daniel reported. "This must be the entrance to his palace."

"This is the abode of Lady Circe now," one of the Jaffa said. "Liberator and protector of Arcadia." His voice was full of open adoration for his mistress.

"Liberator _and_ protector," Jack commented. "Must be a very busy woman." The second Jaffa gave a grunt of rage and lowered the tip of his staff. "She probably doesn't have time for us today, so why don't we go away and come back some other time?" The staff weapon snapped open.

"Kree!" The first Jaffa barked the command. After a moment's hesitation, the weapon snapped closed, but remained levelled. "Lady Circe desires that you be brought to the cells alive; no more than that. You would do well to speak more carefully of her." Jack nodded his understanding, and the Jaffa ran his eyes over the group. "Commander," he said, beckoning the mercenary leader. The man stepped forward. "Where is the fifth?"

"Fifth?"

"The other woman? We were told you brought two men, two women and a Jaffa." The commander turned back and did a head count. "Go back into the tunnels. Find her and bring her here." The Jaffa pounded the butt of his staff weapon on the gate, three times then two times, and it slid open with barely a sound. Five more Jaffa stepped out to take charge of the prisoners. "Go!" At the command, the Hoplites turned and retreated into the passageway. "Prisoners. You will accompany these Jaffa to your cells."

"And you just stay out here?" Daniel asked. The Jaffa glowered. "Okay. Well, we'll give your regards to Astarte." The glower became a fierce scowl, but the second Jaffa barely reacted. Three of the new Jaffa came around behind SG-1. The leader jabbed Teal'c with his staff, and the former First Prime of Apophis rose slowly, unsteadily to his feet.

"You Okay, big guy?" Jack asked.

"I will be fine," Teal'c replied. "The hunting goad does not cause lasting harm."

"Move!" The leader commanded, and the Jaffa began herding SG-1 through the gate.

 

After a few minutes, Rede got control of herself, and realised that screaming would only lead the wrong people to her. Settling down, but still quite unable to see anything, she began following one of the passage walls, hoping that it would lead somewhere. After a while however, with no change in the stone wall, desperation began to creep up on her again.

"Help!" She cried, at the top of her lungs. Hoplites, Jaffa, ravening monsters; she no longer cared who came, only that someone might find her and take her out of this stifling darkness.

Or put her out of her misery.

She drew breath to scream again, but suddenly felt herself seized from behind. An arm encircled her waist, and a hand clamped over her mouth, and she was dragged away into the dark.

*

"You left a teltac in Balboa Park?" Jacob asked, astounded.

"It's cloaked," Anat assured him. "And very out of the way."

"Well, it's certainly quicker than going by plane," the General admitted, struggling through a hedge. "Although this is very out of the way."

"Should get you to Cheyenne Mountain in less than an hour," Anat promised.

"How do you know where the SGC is?" Sam asked, concerned.

"Gate signature; easy enough to trace if you know how, given the amount of power held in even a dormant Stargate. Based on past experience, we figured the Mountain would be your base."

"Past experience?"

"It took us a few hours to chase down your location, Sam," Anat told her. "Most of that trying addresses where no-one was home. But it's taken six months to find the right universe." Anat turned to face Jacob and Sam, and touched a finger to her hand device. Behind her, the air shimmered, and the rear hatch of a teltac cargo vessel appeared.

 

"Welcome to the Hope," Anat said. "Sorry about the mess; we don't get too many visitors." Sam had ridden in teltacs before, and the rear portion, while not comfortable, was typically spacious. In this case however, the vessel's main cargo bay was cluttered with cables and machinery, including a large, glowing column. At a glance, Sam saw a distinct resemblance to a naquada reactor, but with a strange sheen that reminded her of the quantum mirror that had brought alternate versions of herself and Major Kawalsky to Area 51 from an alternate universe.

"That's incredible," Jacob breathed.

"You know what it is?" Sam asked, incredulous.

"No. But it's big, and it's shiny."

"It's a quantum resolution field generator." The voice that spoke from behind the device was an man's voice, with an English accent. "Used for shifting an object, or objects, between parallel universes."

"Like the quantum mirror, but on a larger scale?" Sam asked, moving around the column.

"That's right," the voice was impressed. Sam rounded the far side of the column and there was no one there. "But just a little fiddly to control." The voice came from where Sam had just been. "Stay there," it added. "I'm coming back round."

"General Carter," Anat said. "Won't you come through to the cockpit? If these two get started on science, we'll probably end up way over our heads."

"Don't I know it," Jacob replied, following her from the hold.

"You see, with the quantum mirror you can cycle between settings until you get the correct image, then cross over," the voice continued. "But with the QRF, you're inside the effect, so you can't look before you..."

Sam looked up as the man's voice rounded the curve of the column and tailed off. He was about her height, with dark-blonde hair, and strikingly handsome. He was well-muscled, his physique more toned than just hard work would produce. She guessed he must have some kind of combat experience; partly from the way he moved, and partly from the tattoo emblazoned on his forehead. He was a Jaffa.

"Hello, Sam," he said.

Sam blinked, confused. "Have we met?" 

The Jaffa looked pained. He bit his lip and looked away from her. "I'm sorry," he said. "Not really. I'm Jason," he added, extending his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Sam accepted it. His palm was rough and callused, and a little greasy, but used to the company of engineers, Sam did not mind that.

"Pleased to meet you," Sam said, letting his strange comment slide for the moment, and turning to technical matters. "So how does this thing work?"

"Well," Jason replied, apparently glad to change subject. "It generates a macro-level quantum uncertainty, just like the surface of the mirror. But instead of a single plane, it wraps the uncertainty around the teltac, so that everything within it exists in a dual quantum state, and then by fine-tuning the resonant frequency of the field..."

"...you control which quantum state..."

"...and which quantum universe..."

"...the teltac and its contents resolve into! That's incredible!" Sam breathed, awestruck. "Who built this thing?" Jason looked hurt.

"I did," he told her.

Sam was appalled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean...I didn't mean to suggest you couldn't." Jason waved away the apology.

"It's not that, it's just...never mind," he finished, lamely. Then he perked up a little. "C'mon. I'll show you how it works."

 

"That's how things were when Sam and the others left," Anat told Jacob-Selmak. The two of them were sitting in the teltac's control cockpit, while Anat ran the ship through a seemingly endless pre-flight sequence. She had just finished the much abridged story of SG-1's visit to her home universe, and its massive repercussions for herself and the resistance movement.

"Why is this taking so long," Selmak asked, warily.

"The Hope has a lot more systems than a regular teltac; the cloak, the flip field, and some upgrades on the engines. We have to get all the systems powered up and synched before I start burning real power to the drives, otherwise the whole thing could blow up, and take a large chunk of the planet with it. That or collapse us into a tiny pocket dimension where we'll be slowly compressed to the size of an atom over the space of several million years." Selmak gave her a look of intense concern. "Don't worry. Hasn't happened yet." She punched a handful of controls, and the teltac began to rise into the air. "And we're off."

"So how have the resistance been doing since then?"

"Strength to strength," Anat replied. "We have momentum now; before they were just sitting still. We've created a whole new front where Napoleon has to expend resources, and it's beginning to tell. Galactic domination is way out of his grasp, and he's falling back to the defensive at the moment. Things are still rough, but there's hope now where there wasn't before." Anat's hands moved easily over the control panel, logging in the course to Cheyenne Mountain. "You don't trust me, do you?"

Selmak frowned. "It's not that..." Anat arched an eyebrow, sceptically. "I don't know what to make of you," the Tok'ra admitted. "You show up at Jacob's son's house, looking for Major Carter and wearing a Goa'uld hand device..."

"You don't expect a girl to walk around San Diego unprotected do you?"

"...And you come out with this story about travelling across universes to bring a warning? What do you expect me to think?"

Anat shrugged. "I didn't expect you to think anything. I wasn't looking for you. But it's like I said: SG-1 gave my world hope. We don't just owe them for a little fire support. Daniel Jackson may well have indirectly saved our galaxy from Napoleon's unchallenged rule, and Teal'c...Teal'c changed my life," she finished, softly. "I won't let Astarte hurt him again." Selmak looked long and hard at Anat, but she bore his scrutiny without flinching. The Tok'ra seemed about to speak, when the cockpit door opened, and Sam entered from the rear of the vessel.

"Now that is an impressive piece of work," she announced.

"The machine? Or the Jaffa?" Anat asked, impishly.

Sam felt herself blush. "The generator," she replied.

"There's a Jaffa?" Jacob asked, surprised.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "He was behind the generator; I didn't sense him either."

"Jason was born in Setesh's compound in England," Anat told them. "He was trained for the Setesh Guard, but he ran away when he was fifteen and he's been with the resistance since. He's carrying a Tok'ra prim'ta at the moment."

"Where did he learn his science?" Sam wondered aloud.

"I don't believe he did," Anat replied. "He just...understands stuff. He mostly works with adapting Goa'uld technology, but after he heard about you, he started developing a whole new line of theories regarding universal cross-transport. It wasn't much good to the resistance, but he worked on it in his free time. When Josephine and I decided to try and send a mission to your universe, we retrieved the quantum mirror and he was able to put his theories into practice."

"He's a genius alright," Sam agreed. "But...kind of weird. He was really jumpy and awkward around me."

Anat smiled, sadly. "He's probably just confused. You know; finds you attractive, but he's in love with someone else."

"I guess he doesn't get out much does he?" Sam asked, feeling herself blush again.

"Something like that," Anat replied, evasively.

"He's not in love with you, is he?"

"No," Anat assured her, but a little too quickly.

"Are you in love with him?"

"Of course not!" Anat snorted. "You know I'm in love with..." She looked awkward. "With Teal'c," she finished. Sam was gobsmacked. Anat turned and smiled at her. "Word of advice? Don't ever get too attached to anyone from another universe."

"I'll bear it in mind," Sam promised. "Now I should radio the mountain; let them know we're coming."

"Of course. There's a communication sphere at the navigator's seat, behind Jacob. It's rigged to broadcast by regular radio wave."

"Why would you do that?" Jacob asked. "It must bring the range and the speed of transmission right down."

Anat nodded. "Of course, but it's an old resistance trick. It stops the Goa'uld intercepting the transmissions, and we only have to use it short-range on Earth." Jacob nodded, accepting the logic of this argument.

"That's good thinking," he admitted.

"That's your thinking," Anat confided. "Jacob Carter devised the system as a way to compensate for the unreliability of Tau'ri radio communications, without sending broadcasts that the Goa'uld could intercept. His loss was felt deeply by the resistance," she added.

"Now you're creeping me out," Jacob told her. "And I have a snake wrapped around my brain stem."

"I know what you mean. Everyone on this ship - myself, Jason and the engineer, Cally - was chosen for the mission because they won't have equivalents in this or any similar universe. Without Napoleon's conquest and what followed from it, none of us would ever have been born. It's eerie to think about; I'm sure Sam would agree." The girl looked over to where Sam was busy at the communicator.

"You mean in your world..."

"The resistance was Jacob Carter's life. The nearest thing he had to a son was his protégé." Jacob looked away, distractedly. "Jack O'Neill," Anat added.

"You have got to be kidding me?"

"Jack O'Neill/Selmak." Jacob's eyes bulged in disbelief. Anat laughed briefly, before sobering again. "Sadly, the resistance lost them both shortly before SG-1 arrived through the Stargate." Jacob sat very still, staring pensively through the forward screen of the teltac.

"...how long overdue?" Sam was asking, her voice clear past the sudden and uncomfortable silence between Jacob and Anat. "Anat? What's our ETA?"

"Our what?"

"How long until we arrive?"

"Oh. Fifteen, twenty minutes."

Sam relayed the information to the Mountain, listened for a few moments, then signed off. She turned to Jacob and Anat with a grim expression. "SG-1 were sent on a diplomatic mission earlier today. They're almost three hours late checking in with the SGC."

"Teal'c...?" Anat asked.

"With them. Yes," Sam confirmed. "We don't know what's happened to them yet; it may be nothing."

"It's Astarte," Anat said. "I know it. I was too late," she added, in a voice filled with self-loathing.

"It's not too late yet," Sam promised her.

_*_

"Well, this is nice," Jack commented.

"As Goa'uld cells go, I've seen worse," Daniel said. "At least it's dry." The cell was both dry, and relatively cosy. It smelled clean and fresh, and had three good-sized, almost comfortable bunk-sets, and even a table and chairs. The walls were made of stone, and looked thick. The door was metal.

"I suppose it's better than Netu," Jack allowed.

Daniel smiled in spite of himself. "So is Detroit." Jack smiled back.

Amy was sitting on one of the bunks, apparently calm and collected. Jack went over and sat beside her.

"How're you holding up, Lieutenant?"

"Fine, Sir. And thanks for asking." The girl looked about her, analysing the situation. "But you know, you don't have to worry about me. I'm an Air Force officer now, Colonel; not your best friend's kid sister. I don't need special treatment."

"I know, but..." Amy looked him in the eyes, and he saw a steely strength there that reminded him of her brother; and more than a little bit of himself. "I'll try not to coddle you," he agreed.

Amy nodded. "Thank you, Sir. And I meant it; thanks for asking." She smiled her crooked, mischievous grin. "Now; does anyone have any plans for getting out of here?"

Jack looked up to Daniel and Teal'c. "I throw the subject open to the floor," he said.

"Well," Daniel hazarded. "Ordinarily I'd say that Astarte's arrogance would be our best advantage. Always in the past, the Goa'uld have left weaknesses in their defences because they're too confident of their own invincibility."

"It's a start."

"Unfortunately; I don't think that Astarte has that problem. According to what I learned about her in the other universe - and assuming for the sake of argument that that applies here - then she's meticulous to the point of psychosis."

"Okay. Not a start. Big guy?"

"I agree with all that Daniel Jackson has said," Teal'c agreed. "But I believe he has overlooked one advantage. This was the palace of Helios for many years, and if Astarte has taken residence it is only recently. However cautious Astarte is, Helios was renowned for his arrogance, and his refusal to attend to details was the cause of his undoing."

Jack nodded. "So you're saying there may be weaknesses in the palace, which Astarte hasn't got around to fixing." The Jaffa nodded.

"Also, some of her Jaffa are very new to her service," Daniel observed.

"What? Do they have purchase dates?"

"They don't know who she is," Amy said.

"Exactly," Daniel replied. "I said we'd give their best to Astarte..."

"...and only one of them reacted," Jack finished, nodding. "Right. I wondered about that." He shook his head in frustration. "This may not be the best time to mention it, but I don't seem to be on top form today."

"It's probably seeing Astarte again," Daniel said, sympathetically. "You didn't expect it; you're shaken. It's understandable. That whole time when Hathor's goons were chasing us round that planet, my brains were like tar. It'll pass," he promised.

The lock opened with a heavy clunk, and the door swung slowly open. Two Jaffa stepped in, one holding a hunting goad levelled at the cell's occupants. The other looked like the senior of the two, and Jack thought he recognised him from the entourage of the other Astarte. At least two more Jaffa stood, waiting, in the corridor.

"You," the leader said, pointing at Amy. The young lieutenant slowly rose to her feet. "Come with us. Lady Circe commands your presence." Amy looked to Jack, who shook his head. She remained standing in place. "You will come with us," the Jaffa insisted.

"She will not," Jack replied, stepping in front of her. "I'm in charge here, and if Lady Circe want to speak to someone, she can speak to me."

The Jaffa sneered at Jack and stepped around him to seize Amy. Almost disdainfully, she slipped his grasp, and Jack placed a hand on his chest and shoved him away. "Back off!" He commanded. The Jaffa barked an order, and his subordinate discharged the hunting goad into Jack's abdomen. The shock was more painful than a zat blast, but did not cause him to black out. He did however find himself lying on the floor, as his legs turned to jelly beneath him.

Angrily, Amy took a step forward, but she too was felled by a charge from the goad. Teal'c and Daniel were brought up short before they could intervene, as another Jaffa entered from the corridor to cover them with a staff weapon.

The senior officer gestured sharply, and two servants entered to gather Jack from the floor and carry him from the cell. Then the Jaffa backed away to the door, and closed it behind them as they left. Teal'c strode to the door, while Daniel knelt beside Amy.

"How do you feel?" He asked.

"Like I just took the red pill," she replied, managing a smile. "Where's Uncle Jack?"

" _Uncle_ Jack?" 

Amy smiled again, a little sheepishly. "Just the impromptu ETC talking," she assured him.

Daniel smiled faintly, but his expression sobered quickly. "They took him away with them."

"Should have let them take me," she said.

"Colonel O'Neill would never willingly allow a member of his command to be tortured in his place," Teal'c told her.

"Right," Amy sniffed, doubtfully. "This isn't personal." Amy struggled to rise, but neither her arms nor her legs seemed to have the strength. "Could you just give me a hand to sit up?" She asked Daniel. With a little effort, the archaeologist managed to prop her against the side of the bunk.

"The strength should return to your limbs within a few minutes," Teal'c assured her.

"What was that thing?" Amy asked the Jaffa.

"It looked like one of those Bedrosian weapons," Daniel noted.

"It is a Goa'uld hunting goad," Teal'c told them. "Carried by beaters on big-game hunts, and designed to cause pain in large animals, allowing the beaters to drive them towards the Goa'uld hunters. On human-sized animals it is quite debilitating, but the weapon is designed not to cause permanent harm."

"That's good to know," Amy said. "But it hurts like hell." Gingerly she moved her arms, clearly regaining some strength and feeling.

"I would suppose that the Thebans use the goads because as a hunting preserve, the planet would be well-stocked with them. The Bedrosians may well have adapted their weapons from a similar design after the upheaval which buried their Stargate."

"Did you say the Colonel would be tortured?" Amy asked, a little uncomfortably. Daniel nodded. "He'll hold out, right? I mean, I know he'll break eventually, but he'll be okay?"

"Astarte's ability in the alternate universe was...legendary," Daniel admitted.

"I would not give even Colonel O'Neill more than a few hours," Teal'c confirmed.

Amy looked pale. "He should have let them take me," she said again.

 

By the time they arrived in the throne room - a chamber very reminiscent of Ra's audience chamber in his starship on Abydos - Jack had regained control of his limbs. He expected to be forced to his knees before the empty seat, but instead the Jaffa pushed him past, to the back of the chamber, and through to a more secluded space.

"Well, this is starting to get very déjà vu," Jack muttered to himself, looking around at the black-and-gold-striped hangings which surrounded the room. To one side, the hangings billowed away from a open window. The Jaffa pushed Jack forward, then retreated to stand by the door. "So I just wait here then?" He asked the Jaffa.

"Oh no, Jack," Astarte's voice assured him, light and teasing. "No waiting. Not for you." Startled, Jack tried to trace the source of the voice, eventually settling on the area of the window. Gradually, he made out a robed form, garbed in the same fabric that made up the curtains, causing her to become all but invisible. The effect must have taken a great deal of work to orchestrate; Jack had not seen such effective camouflage since he had cross-trained with an SAS unit in Germany, fifteen years before.

She half-turned towards him, black hair and gold ribbons sliding across the back of the robe to reveal her face in profile against the light. It was an artful, deliberate movement, but made Jack catch his breath nonetheless. As in the Heptarchy's Hall, Astarte was not using her Goa'uld voice, and Jack had to give himself a mental kick, so as not to forget what she was.

"Very...dramatic," he allowed, warily. "I'm flattered you think I'm worth all the trouble."

"Oh, Jack; I know what you are worth," Astarte assured him with a slight smile. "We may not have had much time together, but I have missed your sense of humour."

Jack felt a chill run down his spine. He tried to think of something to say. "How...?" Was all he managed.

"The same way you did," Astarte replied, dismissively. "With a copy of your lovely Major's notes, it was not hard to follow you, my dear."

She turned fully towards Jack. The gown fell to her feet, sweeping the floor as she seemed to glide towards him. Again, on another woman such a motion might seem stagy or overblown, but she carried it off with dazzling style. She was covered from the ground to her neck, the collar of her robe exposing only the hollow of her throat, and Jack caught himself wondering what she was wearing underneath. He gave his mind another kick. _She's a Goa'uld_ , he reminded himself.

Astarte floated up to Jack, and placed a hand gently on his chest. _She's a Goa'uld_ , he repeated to himself, over and over like a mantra.

"I hear disturbing news, Jack," Astarte whispered. "That you demanded to be taken in place of the girl who travels with you."

Silently thanking Astarte for making his task easier, Jack pulled away from her with such suddenness that her guards stepped forward, anticipating violence. Their mistress raised her hand and with barely a motion, signalled them back. With as little, she might have ordered Jack's death.

"Okay!" Jack snapped. "Once and for all: I am not seeing anyone in my command. In fact, I'm not seeing anyone at all, but that's nothing to do with you, because I'm not seeing you either. This game was boring the last time you got me to play it, and it's boring now!" _Go Jack!_ He thought to himself. "So why don't we cut the crap, and get to the point? If there even is one."

Jack expected anger, or a pouting display of feigned grief. Instead, Astarte gave a light, dancing laugh that rang musically in his ears and did strange and pleasant things to the rest of him. Then she was up near to him again, and arm around his neck and her mouth very close to his ear. "The point, Jack?" She whispered. She stepped away, and Jack saw that a large, familiar-looking Jaffa had stepped up beside them. "You remember Rehetep? My First Prime?"

"I never forget a staff-whipping," he assured her. Astarte smiled, and reached her slender hand into the Jaffa's pouch.

"The point," Astarte began. She withdrew her hand, clutching the writhing form of a Goa'uld. Not a hagfish-like prim'ta, such as Junior, but a silver-scaled, mature Goa'uld, ready to take a new host body. "You see where I am going?"

*

As Jacqueline Rede emerged into the light, she breathed a sigh of relief. She felt further relief to see that her captors were not Hoplites, but a group of young Thebans in simple tunics and breeches. Four of them surrounded her, forcing her to move with them as they left a natural cave mouth and headed off through a forest. From her study of SG-2's reports, she knew that these must be residents of the poorer rural areas of Thebes. In preparing for a meeting with the Heptarchy, she had neglected a lot of the information on the rural settlements, and she could have kicked herself now for being so sloppy.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked them, as they hurried her along. "I'm Jacqueline Rede; diplomatic liaison to the Stargate Command. Perhaps I should speak to someone in authority?"

No one answered, and Jacqueline soon had little breath for talking. Her captors - rescuers still seemed unreasonably optimistic - set a challenging pace, and although she was in good trim, Jacqueline was not used to route marching, and besides her feet were killing her. Dressed formally, her skirt was too narrow and her heels - while far from stilettos - too high for this kind of movement. About half an hour into the journey, she would have given anything for jeans and a pair of trainers. After forty-five minutes, she was ready to kill for them.

"Please," she begged. "I need to rest."

"It's not far now," one of the Thebans promised; the first words any of them had spoken to her. She did not have the strength to ask where they were going again, so she just nodded and accepted his words.

It was probably only a little over ten minutes more before they reached a small, secluded village on the edge of the forest, but Rede felt ready to collapse, and had been seriously considering just keeling over, leaving the Thebans to abandon her, carry her or stop and wait, as they preferred. The sight of houses was a relief beyond telling, and when the young Theban who had spoken to her led Rede to a bench, she slumped down gratefully, tugged off her shoes and began massaging her aching feet, momentarily oblivious to the fact that she was - in effect - a prisoner.

"Should we tie her?" One of the Thebans asked, snapping her back to reality. She saw at once that she was beginning to draw a crowd, all dressed in the same manner as her captors, although the women wore long skirts instead of breeches.

"She's not going anywhere," the one who had spoken to Rede before replied. He seemed to be a leader of some sort, at least among this small group. "Find out if Damia is back yet." The other gave a wary glance in Rede's direction, but gave a small bow and walked away.

After a few minutes, a girl came out of one of the huts, and brought a wide bowl of steaming liquid over to Rede. It was clear, and looked like water, although it smelled pungently of herbs. Rede thanked the girl, bowing her head slightly in the Theban manner, and raised the bowl to her lips. This action drew a laugh from the onlookers, and the young man placed a hand on the other edge of the bowl to stop her.

"For your feet," he explained. Rede blushed, set the bowl down and rested her feet in the water. A pleasant, warm numbness spread in place of the ache.

"Thank you," she said. The young man nodded, but his expression was serious. He went off, and she saw him talking to various people, including the man whom he had sent to find Damia; whoever Damia was. The girl returned with a cup of cold water and a little food, and Rede thanked her again. She began to feel quite restored, but despite their obvious curiosity, still no one would speak to her.

*

The Hope landed near the front gate of the Cheyenne Mountain complex, still cloaked. A detachment of SGC security personnel came out to meet the ship, and the crew were escorted to the holding area. General Hammond met them there, and gave Anat a VIP security ID, clearing her to enter the base, but not view any sensitive equipment besides the Gate itself. Jason and Cally, the engineer, a brawn Scotswoman, reluctantly remained in the holding area.

"They could wait on the ship," Anat suggested, as she rode down in the main lift with the General.

"I'm sorry," General Hammond replied. "Major Carter can vouch for you, but I'd be remiss if I let persons unknown sit outside the base in a vessel of unknown capacity." Anat nodded her understanding, reluctantly. "I assure you, they'll be made as comfortable as possible." The two of them left the lift, and joined Jacob and Sam in the briefing room.

"Incredible," Anat whispered.

"What's the latest word on SG-1, Sir?" Sam asked, anxiously.

"No word, Major," Hammond replied. "We've opened the gate twice since they missed their check in, and they haven't responded to our signals."

"I'd like to lead a rescue mission through the Gate, Sir," Sam requested. "As soon as possible."

"That's a negative, Major Carter. The second time we sent a MALP through to try and boost the signal; it was destroyed almost as soon as it emerged from the gate. We barely had time for the probe to send back an image, but we counted at least seven individuals watching the Gate. I refuse to send any personnel through the Gate at this time."

"Then when, Sir?" Sam demanded. "My team are stranded, maybe imprisoned..."

"Major Carter, you are out of line," Hammond told her. "Now you know I care about what happens to SG-1, but I'm not sending you or anyone else through that Gate into a turkey shoot." Sam sat back, angry and frustrated, but knowing that the General did not deserve to be the target of that anger.

"Jacob," Hammond said. "Do the Tok'ra have any diplomatic contact with a planet called Arcadia?" Jacob looked up, frowning.

"Yes, we do. This mission was to Thebes?" Hammond nodded. "We don't deal with the Thebans, because their homeland is in Goa'uld hands, but we've had dealings with the Spartii, on the far side of their great ocean, for years. We'd sometimes use Spartus as a staging base to arrange 'hunting accidents' for Goa'uld on safari in Thebes." He paused for a long moment, deep in thought.

"A few months ago, when Helios disappeared, we began to make advances to the Thebans. We sent some delegations, but we're still I the early stages. Tok'ra diplomacy can be pretty sluggish sometimes. Recently, we've had reports from a number of our allies of humans launching attacks through the Stargate system. Reports said that these humans wore SGC uniforms, with SG-1 patches."

"What!" Sam was appalled. "And you didn't tell me this because...?"

"I was instructed not to, and Selmak agreed with that instruction. I figured it must be another NID rogue team or similar; or maybe the Russians were up to something. But until we were sure, I wasn't to..." He looked uncomfortable, as though he had a headache. "Selmak feels I shouldn't be telling you this now, but I think it's important. We had word that the Thebans had come under such an attack, but I didn't know you were sending a diplomatic approach," he assured Sam. "The expression the Spartii used to describe the Heptarch was 'spitting blood'. That's why I wasn't very chatty at Mark's," he added, apologetically.

"Astarte had our uniforms," Sam said. "The ones we wore when we were zapped into Anat's world."

"But what does she gain by it?" Jacob asked.

"She gets SG-1 delivered into her hands," Anat replied.

"But SG-1 aren't a diplomatic team," Sam protested. "Okay. That came out more critical of us than I intended, but possibly fair, but still..."

"Dr Jackson and Teal'c were only along because SG-2 were out of the picture," Hammond admitted. "But the invitation explicitly referred to Colonel O'Neill."

"This was all aimed at the Colonel," Sam realised. "Sir, we have to do something."

"Well, I'm open to suggestions," Hammond agreed. "But without the Gate..."

"We can fly," Anat reminded them. Hammond nodded, albeit reluctantly. "You don't trust us?"

"I don't know you," Hammond corrected. "And Major Carter can only vouch for you..."

"I'll vouch for my crew," Anat insisted. "You can trust them as much as me, because I'd know if they were lying to me." She looked to Sam for support.

"That's true, General," Sam confirmed. "It's pretty uncanny, actually."

"I'm still not sure. Could the Tok'ra provide a transport?"

"The Tok'ra are still waiting to see what comes of this complaint against you," Jacob replied. "And our current base is further from Arcadia than Earth is."

"And," Anat added. "A Tok'ra teltac won't be as fast as the Hope."

*

Jack leaped to his feet, backing away from Astarte as she approached him with the Goa'uld writhing in her hands, and a seductive smile on her lips.

"I'd make a really bad Goa'uld," he told her. "I get real cranky when I'm sharing my skull with an overblown tapeworm."

"You underestimate yourself," she assured him. "You will make an excellent consort."

"I'll be an excellent shell!" Jack retorted, angrily. _Stay angry, Jack; keeps you thinking straight._ "With that _thing_ inside me. Flattering as it might be to think a woman who looks...the way you do is interested in me" - Astarte smiled at that - "the fact that what you really want to do is let your little friend walk around inside me makes the whole thing just a little bit shallow."

Astarte held the Goa'uld to her shoulder, and it twined itself around her neck in an affectionate, serpentine embrace. She took a step towards him, and he took a step back. "Jack," she chided, sweetly.

"No!" Jack responded, not bothering to conceal his fear. "You keep that thing away from me, or so help me..." The guards came to attention again, but Astarte merely nodded, her expression saddened but accepting. She beckoned, and Rehetep stepped to her side. She reached out, and the Goa'uld slithered down her arm and into the Jaffa's belly pouch. After a glance at Jack's still wary face, she made a brief gesture to order Rehetep from the room.

"There," she said. "Is that better." Jack shot her a disbelieving look. "Now, Jack; don't be childish. Not when I've gone to so much trouble to bring you here."

"You made the attacks," Jack surmised.

Astarte nodded. "After I disposed of Helios, I planned to hide here for at least a year. It is a very pleasant place, after all." She reached out and took Jack's hand in hers. "It is a little too isolated for ruling a grand alliance, but for when we wanted a little time to ourselves..." Jack caught his free hand straying towards her hips as she stepped in closer, and brought it back to his side.

"Like a little place in the country?" He asked. "You like to plan ahead, don't you?"

"But then your comrades came through the Chappa'ai," the Goa'uld continued. "And I saw an opportunity. I used your uniforms and weapons to stir up anger against the Tau'ri - a proven tactic - and persuaded the Heptarch to invite _you_ , the famous Jack O'Neill, to come to Arcadia; ostensibly to talk, but actually to answer for your crimes."

"And how did you persuade him, exactly?" Jack squirmed somewhat, the proximity of Astarte's body becoming unnervingly comfortable.

"Oh, don't be jealous, Jack," Astarte told him with a light, dancing laugh. "He has had nothing of me."

He would not need to, Jack realised, remembering how the Heptarch had responded to her presence. The poor fool was so besotted, he would do anything for Astarte, beyond hope or expectation of reward.

" _You_ are the fickle one, Jack," she teased. "Throwing me over for your Major Carter." Jack began to protest, but she cut him off by laying a finger over his lips. "Then leaving her for this child. And now..." she tailed off, running a finger lightly down Jack's chest. He realised with a start that she had draped his arm around her waist, then released it, and that he had made no move to take it away again. He did so now, and stepped away from her as best he was able.

"You know," he said, gesticulating wildly so as to form a barrier between them with his flailing hands. "It is in fact possible for someone to care about a person without sleeping with them. Sure, I care about Sam, and I care about Amy, but that's not the same as..." He stopped himself short of saying 'how I feel about you', and made a break for the window. Astarte let him go, but trailed silently in his wake. He leaned on the sill, breathing heavily to clear his mid in the clean, cool air.

"Jack," Astarte whispered in his ear.

"Dyow!" Jack started, not having realised she had come so close to him. She had caught him off guard, but ultimately that was good, because it reminded him how dangerous she was.

"I would hardly go to so much trouble for a shell, Jack. I think you're strong enough to make something more interesting than just another host, or I wouldn't bother."

"Again, I'm flattered," Jack assured her, turning to face her. She was very close again, but with the air and the adrenaline, her proximity was less confusing; more menacing. "But if I want to test my strength I'll use one of those boards with a bell and a hammer." Astarte's look of genuine perplexity was almost touching, but Jack dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand and held firm.

The Goa'uld smiled gently. "We have time to discuss this further," she promised him. She reached down and took his clenched hand, peeling his fingers back with surprising strength to examine the nail marks. "Do you have a fondness for pain," she asked, in a sultry tone. "I'm sure you know that I could accommodate that." She bent and tenderly kissed the row of tiny dents. Jack felt his skin flame, and then she bit him.

"Son of a...!" He snapped, but it was not a hard bite. Just a firm pinch on the pad of his palm; enough to get his attention.

"Listen to me, Jack," she told him, straightening, sliding a hand behind his head and holding him close. "You have a simple choice ahead of you. You may choose to become my consort, with all the power and rewards that will bring. Do this," she went on, silencing him again with a finger to his lips. "And you may keep Doctor Jackson and the Jaffa."

"Keep?" Jack could hardly believe his ears.

"To release, if you wish; or to do with as you see fit," Astarte explained. "but their lives shall be yours. Or you may choose to decline my offer, in which case I will can give your body to my young friend anyway. Remember, Jack; your consent is unimportant. I ask only as a courtesy to you. If you force me to this course, then I will make you watch what I do to your friends." Jack's blood ran cold, remembering Teal'c's screams as Astarte worked her tortures on him. "Or if you are less strong than I hoped, perhaps I can make you watch what you do to your friends," she mused, once again very much the Goa'uld in his eye. "Either way, they die."

Astarte stepped away from him, and motioned the Jaffa forward. "I will give you time to decide," she told him. "I desire to speak with your friends, and have no wish for you to rush such an important decision." Jack could find nothing to say as the Jaffa began to lead him away. At the door however, he turned. Astarte had returned to her place by the window, although without such careful arranging the camouflage effect was lessened.

"What about Amy?" He asked. "If..." he hated himself for even asking it. "If I say yes, what happens to her?"

"I have not decided," Astarte replied. "I will let you know. Get some rest now, Jack. Think about what I am offering."

*

Time passed, and Rede was just beginning to feel healthy enough to worry when a group of Thebans came into view. At the head of the group was a tall woman, who looked enough like Rede's chief captor to be a close relative. As she approached, she led by the hand a small boy, perhaps eight or nine, with a melancholy expression.

"Damia," Rede's captor greeted her.

"Theos," she responded, with a hug which confirmed that they were family. "I'm sorry we were so late. There was another attack while we were in the city." Rede pricked up her ears. "The Hoplites said that two of the Tau'ri left the diplomatic quarters and raided the power plant. Echthonus said that the surveillance devices showed two men in SG-1 uniforms."

"Faces?"

Damia shook her head. "Just the names: O'Neill and Jackson." Rede sat up in confusion. What was going on? "What's she doing here?" Damia asked.

"We received word that one of the Tau'ri had been lost in the tunnels," Theos replied. "So we went looking, and got lucky." He motioned towards the boy with her head. "Did you...?"

"Yes. Echthonus got us in, and Ion was able to see the Tau'ri."

"And?" Damia tugged gently on the boy's hand.

"It wasn't them," Ion reported.

"I knew it!" Theos shouted, triumphantly. "And I bet the damned Heptarch knew it as well."

"Excuse me," Rede said, in a small voice. "But could I ask what's going on?"

After a moment's hesitation, Theos turned to her and spoke: "My name is Theos," he began. "This is my sister Damia."

"Jacqueline Rede," she replied, standing and giving a formal bow. Theos and Damia returned to gesture.

"You know our ways," Damia noted. Rede acknowledged the compliment with a modest nod.

"The boy, Ion, is one of the few people to survive one of the raids carried out by SG-1. Every time there is an attack, it seems that at least one person would live long enough to send a telegraph identifying their attackers by their uniforms, but not to describe them. The surveillance devices at some of the larger research institutes recorded the same details, but seemed never to catch their faces; or if they did, the recordings were removed."

"So you were suspicious?"

"To say the least. The Heptarch never questioned the evidence, and there were rumours..."

"We have a few friends in the Council Hall," Damia explained. "There were reports that there were survivors of some of the raids, but they were sent to the Palace and never came back. So when Ion was found in the ruins of his village, we did not take him to the Heptarch."

"The Palace was the abode of Helios?" Rede asked.

Theos nodded. "Now home to the sorceress, Circe. She has done much good for the people of Thebes, and more for its rulers. But she asks much in return."

"Goods, technology; people," Damia said. "And those who go to be her servants...come back, changed."

"She commands great loyalty," Theos continued. "So great that men and women have abandoned their families to serve her more diligently. The Heptarch is completely under her spell," he added, venomously.

Rede nodded her understanding. "But the Heptarch is the husband of..." She broke off as Theos turned suddenly away.

"The Pythoness. Yes," Damia affirmed. "But not by her will."

"She is his pawn, like he is Circe's," Theos growled, turning away. Rede flinched at the hate in his voice.

"Forgive my brother," Damia said. "Zoë grew up in this village; before she became the Pythoness. They were...friends."

Theos kicked a stone violently at the wall of a nearby house. "Aristeias is a pig," he said. "And no sooner were our people free of the Jaffa patrols than he hired Spartian mercenaries to keep us under control." He sat on the bench, at the far end from Rede. "Circe guided the Council through the early days; kept our people from panic and chaos. The Hoplites were part of that, there to make us feel safe and to keep order.

"But when Clio died and named Zoë as her successor, Aristeias forced the marriage, and had the Hoplites attack anyone who protested."

"She didn't look happy with the arrangement," Rede told him. "Nor with what happened to us."

"She probably knew nothing of the Heptarch's plan, and very little of what led up to it. Aristeias forces her to keep to the Temple when she is not in Council, and controls the information going in and out." Theos clenched his fists in helpless rage.

"I can't promise that Earth will help you break free of the Heptarch's control," Rede said. "But we will want to rescue our people, and that sets us against Circe. If I can get back through the Stargate..."

"The Chappa'ai is guarded by twenty Hoplites. We have only five fighters worth the mentioning, and no weapons."

"Then can you get to our equipment? The Gate will be opened from the other side, and I could send a message through." Theos shook his head again.

"If your gear were still in the Council Halls, yes," Damia told her. "But it too was moved to the Palace."

"Damnit!" Rede swore. She sat, deep in thought, realising that a great deal of importance had been missing from the cultural and political accounts given by SG-2, and that this must have been the result of a deliberate obfuscation. At the heart of the deception was the biggest missing piece; the most glaring omission. "Where is this palace?"

_*_

"Any joy, Teal'c?" Daniel asked.

"I have discovered several promising possibilities," the Jaffa replied. "Unfortunately all of them have proven to be dead ends."

"Dummy air vents, loose stones in immovable surroundings, soft mortar for a half-inch over solid rock; what kind of a crazy cell is this?" Amy demanded.

"This is the cell for problem prisoners," Daniel theorised. "The escape artists."

"How do you make that out?"

"Well, it's like the camp in the Great Escape. You put all the escape risks where you can best control them. Not by watching them, but by pre-empting them. So you put in all these false starts..."

"...and the prisoner spends all his time digging down to the solid rock," Amy realised. "Instead of picking up anything the builders might actually have overlooked."

"Thus simultaneously disheartening him, and making him engage in displacement activities that are a complete waste of time."

"Ingenious," Teal'c commented.

"But not ingenious enough," Amy added, smiling at Daniel.

"I don't know about that," the archaeologist demurred. "I mean, I really wish I'd figured it out an hour ago," he added, ruefully examining his cracked and battered fingertips. " _Before_ I'd tried to unscrew a vent panel with my bare hands." There was an embarrassed pause, as the other two considered their own, similar injuries.

The locks on the cell door clunked open, and the three of them rushed to try and conceal the evidence of their activity. Two Jaffa prodded Jack through the door with their hunting goads, and one took in the prisoners' dishevelled, dust-covered appearance and laughed. After a moment, his comrade saw what was so funny and joined in.

"Of course," Daniel admitted. "It may just be way the guards get their kicks. Hi, Jack," he added. "How've you been?"

"Not bad. Standard 'offer I can't refuse'." Daniel opened his mouth to reply, but never got the chance.

"You!" The first guard stopped laughing and pointed at Daniel.

"Yes?"

"Come with us."

"Looks like its my turn," Daniel said, trying to hide his anxiety.

"Careful, Danny," Jack warned. "She's way more dangerous than she looks. Keep reminding yourself that she's Goa'uld." Daniel nodded his thanks, and the guards led him away. Amy frowned with concern.

"What'll they do to him?" She asked.

Jack shrugged. "Not sure. I don't think she's in a torturing mood today though," he added, with some relief. "He should be okay. So long as he doesn't..." He tailed off.

"Colonel O'Neill?" Teal'c asked, concerned.

"Well; he does have a habit of pissing off Goa'uld."

Amy swallowed hard. "What did she do to you?"

"Talked," Jack said. "Mostly."

"About?"

"Well...Y'know. GDO codes; base defences..."

"Colonel. Please. Don't protect me," Amy implored. "I worked hard to get here. I deserve this posting; I earned it. I just want you to treat me with the same respect you would any other officer. If that means telling me to shut up and mind my own, then fine. But please don't dissemble. Just tell it to me straight."

Jack gave her a rueful frown. "Okay," he admitted. "You're right. You know you shouldn't be here..."

"...That General Hammond only assigned me to the mission because no crisis was expected. Yes, Sir."

"Don't interrupt a senior officer, lieutenant," Jack ordered, sternly.

"Sorry, Sir," she replied, sheepishly. "I guess I asked for that," she added, as Jack relented with a slight smile. He nodded. "You're still evading though. So I figure either she wants to sleep with you...or do to you what happened to Charles."

Jack looked uncomfortable. "A little from column A; a little from column B. And I'm worried she'll use you lot to get to me." There was another uncomfortable silence. "Don't all leap to reassure me at once."

"O'Neill, you know as well as I do that if this Astarte is anything like the one we encountered, I could not stand up to her tortures for more than a few hours."

"Thanks. That helps," Jack said. "No wait; it doesn't. And this _is_ that Astarte," he added. "Probably should have told Daniel that, but...I'm just no good at this multiple universes stuff."

"We'll pull through," Amy promised. "I mean, come on. I've seen the files. I know you've come through worse than this." Jack smiled at the young officer, and tried hard to pretend that he believed her.

*

"It's about bloody time," Cally snarled, when Sam and Anat came to collect her and Jason from the holding area, a thick Scot's burr distorting the brawny woman's words almost to incomprehensibility. Sam could understand the woman's anger; after all, they had come a long way to offer help, then been locked up. "We off now?"

"No," Anat replied. "We're going to give your engines a bit of an outing."

"Aye? I'd better go check up on them then," the older woman said. She appeared to be trying to stay angry, but the prospect of an interplanetary flight was clearly exciting for her, another emotion Sam could well understand. Ever since she was a little girl, she had dreamed of being an astronaut, and she had almost come to blows with her father when he had pulled strings to get her transferred to the shuttle programme, only for her to turn the opportunity down.

At the time he had not been blended with Selmak, and knew nothing of the Stargate. She could not tell him then that she was regularly travelling to places more extraordinary than Earth's orbit, and had already been on board a shuttle when she was rescued after the destruction of Apophis' attack fleet. While her primary motivation for arranging for Jacob to blend with Selmak had been in order to prevent his death from cancer, Sam had been glad of the chance to finally open up to her father. Sadly - as shown by the reported attacks by SG-1 - the still-uneasy alliance between the Tau'ri and the Tok'ra meant that there still were - and probably always would be - secrets between father and daughter.

"I'd better get working as well," Jason said. "If we're going to activate the transmat drives, I'll need to stabilise the energy matrix in the QRF generator. Sam; I could use a hand," he added.

"Well; I'm still getting my head around the theory," Sam reminded him. "But sure; if you think it'll help."

 

"I know this isn't my area," Sam said, about thirty minutes later. "But won't these settings prevent the generator actually..." she searched for a word.

"Generating?" Jason asked, repositioning a handful of cables and taping them firmly to the side of the generator housing.

"Uh...yeah."

"Well, yes it will; at least at full power. The field will retain sufficient strength to deflect the risk of TEC failure, but we won't be able to perform any kind of dimensional cross-travel. We shouldn't have to do that anyway, but what's most important is that on settings these low, the generator's power use is stable. At higher levels it becomes unpredictable, and that can interfere with the transmat drives."

"You mean the hyperspace engines?" Sam asked, stepping back to admire their handiwork. The Quantum Resolution Field generator now bristled with trinium control rods and power dispersion veins. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead; the work had not been hard, but without time to fully power-down the generator, it had been very hot working so close to it.

"You know what the problem with Goa'uld technology is?" Jason asked, seemingly apropos of nothing.

"They use it to kill people?" Sam hazarded.

"It's static," Jason replied. "They steal everything they use. It's all very advanced stuff compared to Earth's technology - particularly my Earth - but they don't really understand how it works. How to make it, and how to repair it, sure; but with a tiny handful of exceptions, they don't have any grasp of the _theory_ behind it."

"Which means that it never advances," Sam said, catching his drift. "They never develop anything new unless they steal it from somewhere else."

"Which is why they could never come up with something like this," he indicated the generator. "Or repair the Ancients' intergalactic Gate booster; or develop something like the transmat drive." He settled himself comfortably on a rail around the generator, and took a long swig from a water bottle. Like Sam, he was sweating from the work, and dressed only in a now off-white vest, looked like a refugee from a Diet Coke advert. Sam shook her head to clear the image, sitting on the rail next to him, facing slightly away to hide a small smile.

Although she was not looking at him, Sam could not help but notice that Jason leaned slightly towards her, then scooted along the rail, coming to rest a little further from her. She shook her head again, not knowing what to make of the bashful Jaffa, and not sure she should try too hard.

"Cally created the transmat drive. It works by building a set of transport rings into the hull of the teltac. Then you use the rings' wormhole effect..."

"...to create a short-lived, transient wormhole around the ship!" Sam exclaimed. "So that each moment it's catapulted minutely forward in a fraction of the time it would take to fly the distance in normal space. That's brilliant!"

"They don't just have us along for our looks," Jason assured her. Sam hid another smile. "Or because we won't disintegrate forty-eight hours after arrival. Of course, you have to get out of the solar system in normal space, otherwise you end up in a temporal loop and there's no telling when - or if - you'll come out. And there's a few other teething troubles."

"Teething troubles?"

"Well, there's still a small - but not completely insignificant - risk of triggering a catastrophic molecular cascade reaction, transforming the Hope into a giant, fast-moving fusion core; blasting the ship and everyone on it into their component fundamental particles and scattering them to the farthest reaches of the universe."

"Oh," Sam replied. "Well; I suppose you'd still be going places." She looked round at Jason, and saw that her attempt at humour had not got quite the reaction she had anticipated. The Jaffa actually looked like he was in pain. "Are you okay , Jason?" she asked, laying a hand on his arm. He leaped up as though her palm were on fire.

"I'm fine. It's just...complicated," he replied. "I should go clean up. You might want to take a shower before we go too. It'll take a day or so even using the transmat drive to get there, and we don't have room for bathing water supplies." Sam nodded her agreement; Jason might look good, but he really did not _smell_ it just at the moment, and neither did she.

 

When Sam returned from the shower block, there was no sign of Jason in the main hold. SG-14 - a combat support squad under Major James Hamilton - were settling into the limited seating in the hold. Anat came over to Sam as she entered.

"Well, this is fun," she said.

"Problems?"

"Just that this bunch of clowns don't seem to have much respect for civilians," Anat replied with a frustrated blush. Sam regarded the four members of SG-14, joking and horsing around in the off-colour way she had often noticed in all-male units. While the SGC usually operated mixed-gender teams, she knew that the more combat-oriented teams were still prohibited by policy from including female members.

"Don't worry about them," Sam said. "I'll take care of it." She stepped forward, giving the soldier a three-count to notice her before she barked out, in her best drill-officer voice: "SG-14! Attention!" As one, the four men leaped to their feet and saluted. Although both held the rank of major, on this mission, Sam was to be the commanding officer, as she was both older and more experienced that Hamilton. "The crew of this vessel are our allies," she told them. "Their goodwill is important, and while they don't bear military ranks, they are all soldiers. You will treat them with the same respect as you would any allied officer, or you will answer to me." She paused, looking around the chamber. "Understood!"

"Sir, yes Sir," SG-14 chorused.

Sam gave each man a searching glare, holding them at attention for another twenty-or-thirty seconds. "At ease," she said at last, allowing them to relax. "As you were." She turned back to Anat. "See. No trouble."

"Some 'officer'; running, blabbing to the Major," one of the soldiers muttered. The man he was speaking to elbowed him in the ribs, seeing Sam catch the comment. She walked over to stand in front of him. He was five inches taller than Sam, and had maybe a hundred pounds on her, but she had a good ten years, she had rank, and she was mad as hell.

"If you have a problem with my orders, _lieutenant_ , then you take it up with me, and we can find you a posting somewhere else; I understand the Air Force runs some very cosy little listening posts in Alaska. If you have a problem with our hosts, you will take that up with me, since I need my troops mobile, and the last guy I saw get on the wrong side of Anat could barely walk unaided for the better part of a day." The lieutenant looked nervous. "That was Teal'c," she added, and the man blanched, shooting a fearful look at the small, red-haired girl. "As you were," Sam said again. She and Anat went through to the cockpit.

"That was pretty scary," Anat said.

"I didn't get where I am today without learning to bust a few heads," Sam told her. "I'm sorry about dragging your past out, but..." Anat shrugged.

"I understand. And it was worth it to see the look on his face," she added.

"Are the crew aboard?"

Anat nodded. "Finishing up the engine tuning. We're just waiting for your father," she said.

"Dad's coming?" Sam asked, somewhat thrown. It would be one thing to give the troops a chewing out if she were the CO, but if she was being reassigned to 2IC, things could be more difficult, and any orders she had issued on her own initiative might be ignored or overruled. She was also annoyed because General Hammond had given her the command of this mission, and she did not like the idea of being bumped down again. It did not bode well for her chances of getting her own command any time soon.

"Relax, Sam," Jacob said, entering the cockpit behind them. He was dressed in his Tok'ra outfit, rather than his Air Force uniform. "I'm coming along strictly as a representative of the Tok'ra Council. This is still your baby." Sam nodded, gratefully, glad that he understood her concerns. "You seem to be doing pretty well," he added. "Looks like you put the fear of Carter into those kids back there."

"Fear of Carter?" Anat asked.

"A popular expression in Dad's old commands," Sam explained, flattered that he used the term in reference to her. "It means I let them know who's in charge."

"They didn't know already?" Anat asked, her brow creasing in confusion.

Sam smiled. "I'm beginning to see where you and Teal'c have a lot in common," she said. 

Anat smiled shyly and focused her attention on the control panel. "All systems are cleared for take off." Sam nodded, and radioed to the base for clearance.

"You're good to go," General Hammond's voice announced. "Godspeed, Major."

Anat activated the controls, and the teltac rose swiftly into the air. "Assuming all goes well, we should take about twenty-seven hours to reach Arcadia," She told the two Carter's. "We should all get some sleep during the flight."

"What if all doesn't go to plan?" Jacob asked.

Anat shrugged. "We die in a trans-dimensional fireball of potentially apocalyptic magnitude. But it won't hurt any to be rested when it happens."

Jacob raised an eyebrow, and asked: "Have you ever thought about going into advertising?"

*

Daniel was led to the same chamber that Jack had been taken to for his interview. The curtains had been pulled back, allowing the afternoon sun to wash into the room, and Astarte had changed back into the plain, dark robe she had worn as 'Circe' in the Council Hall. She sat on a small couch, and motioned for Daniel to sit on a chair opposite her. On a small table between the two lay a tray with a decanter and two glass goblets, and as Daniel warily accepted her invitation, Astarte poured each of them a drink of wine.

"Please relax, Dr Jackson," Astarte said. "If I intended you harm, you would know it by now." She handed him one of the goblets, and as he accepted she noticed the state of his fingers. "I see you have been making use of your time." She gestured curtly over her shoulder. "How did you find your accommodations?"

"We were dragged down the hall by a Jaffa, and there they were," Daniel replied. Astarte gave a delighted laugh, and suddenly Daniel understood what Jack had meant by his warning.

"You are not a warrior, but you are very brave," she said. A girl approached with a small dish of water and a cloth, and knelt before Daniel's chair. "Please. Allow my servant to tend your hands. I would not wish to be found inhospitable."

"No. Heaven forbid that you should neglect the needs of those humble travellers you've had flung into your dungeons." Daniel set his wine down, untouched, and held out his hands to the girl. He had sustained far worse injuries on digs without ill-effects, and he had no objection to getting his hands dirty, but it seemed safe enough, and kept Astarte from insisting he drink the wine.

"I know a little about you, Daniel...May I call you Daniel?"

"I suppose so. May I call you Astarte?" Daniel was curious to know if she would deny the name in private, but whatever her reply, had little intention of allowing himself to feel on first name terms with her; she was too dangerous by far.

"Of course, Daniel. No pretence is needed with you and your companions." She sipped her wine, delicately. Daniel was fairly certain she had drunk from the goblet, but that was not enough to convince him that it was not drugged. "I know that you decoded the Stargate after it had defied generations of researchers. I know that you and Jack O'Neill defeated and killed Ra, and I know that you and your companions have been a plague to the System Lords ever since."

"I've always been rather proud of that," Daniel assured her, wincing slightly as the servant poured a trickle of alcohol over his cuts.

"I know also what was done to you by Apophis. That he took your wife for his Queen, Amaunet." Daniel looked away from her, his face darkening at the memories. "And I know what Hathor did to you." Daniel was startled by the venom in Astarte's voice when she spoke of Hathor. "So I know that you - perhaps more than anyone in your world - has reason to hate my kind."

"This is very interesting," Daniel said. "Really. But I know all these things. I was there."

"As I am sure you know, Apophis is now by far the most powerful of the System Lords."

"It's been a little hard to miss."

"Just as I am sure you know that your government have been considering an alliance with Apophis for some time."

"What?" Daniel asked. He shook his head, withdrawing his half-bandaged fingers from the servant girl. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong. I mean: What!? No. Don't bother; I know it's a lie."

"No lie, Daniel. There have been emissaries sent and received. Do you think that Apophis has no operatives on Earth? I have my agents, and I have only been in this universe a short time."

"This...You're the Astarte from Napoleon's world."

Astarte gave a weary sigh. "Jack did not tell you? Oh dear; I hope I do not have to go through this with each of your companions."

"But if you've been here that long...?"

"Why haven't I been killed by Temporal Entropic Cascade Failure? Because, Daniel, I studied Samantha Carter's notes very carefully, and realised that this universe would not be big enough for two Astartes." Daniel paled. "So as soon as I was able, I removed my counterpart from the field."

"You...killed yourself?" Daniel asked, stunned by the cold-bloodedness with which she described it.

Astarte cocked her head thoughtfully to one side, a disarmingly innocent expression, so at odds with the subject that Daniel could hardly believe the woman actually understood what she was saying. "I suppose you could say that," she said at last, with a lazy smile. "The Tau'ri of this world are far more amusing than those under Napoleon."

"That's what a century of _not_ being oppressed will do for you," Daniel surmised.

Astarte nodded, conceding the point. "My people have so much to learn from yours," she said. "Their reliance on force makes them creatures of the past."

"While you are the future?"

"I could be," she replied. "Will you hear me out?"

"I am a captive audience," Daniel replied. "But I won't promise not to laugh."

"Powerful elements of your government are in discussion to reach terms for an alliance with Apophis, and to sever all ties with the Asgard."

"Why would they do that?" Daniel asked. "The Asgard are our friends."

"The Asgard give you their protection, but it will be worthless against the army Apophis is gathering. They do not give you weapons to defend yourself, or even the tools with which to develop such technology for yourselves."

"They have a policy of non-interference."

"It is not I you need to convince of these things," Astarte warned. "But this is not the worst of it. Apophis' ambassadors have uncovered a simple weakness in your country's armour, and are exploiting it. You see; the Asgard have no concept of wealth, no possessions and no religion. They own no property, and have only a loose hierarchy based on duty and responsibility."

"So? They've moved beyond material possessions and power-mongering."

"There is a word, Daniel. A word your people use for such a society..."

Daniel groaned. "You have got to be kidding."

"You know that the leaders of your nation would do it. They have done it before."

"They'd make an alliance with Apophis." Astarte nodded. "Who tried to destroy Earth." Another nod. "On the grounds that the Asgard are...Communists?"

"We understand each other, Daniel."

"And you have an alternative?"

"I can provide everything that Apophis is offering, and with fewer strings. I can not muster numbers to rival his, but with the size of Earth's population, you can."

"Well; that's very kind of you. But you know, our record when dealing with Goa'uld Queens is kind of shaky. I doubt I could persuade my people to go along with it." He paused briefly. "Oh. Plus I don't trust you as far as I could throw you, and as Sam would point out, I throw like a girl."

"I am truly sorry for what you suffered at Hathor's hands," Astarte told him, with such sincerity that he almost believed her. "But do not be blinded by the past. The Tau'ri can form an impressive resistance on the ground, but you can not hope to defeat Apophis' force in space."

"I've heard that before. We've always managed."

"You have been both skilled and lucky," Astarte told him. "Do not let pride and pain destroy you now. And do you think that you can never trust a Goa'uld Queen? Shall I tell you something that I learned on Chulak?"

"I have a feeling you're going to anyway."

"Amaunet, Apophis' Queen, told one of her handmaidens that she knew that you were hiding from her husband on Abydos, and did not reveal your presence." Daniel stared at Astarte in amazement. She was good. "I know how it ended for your wife, and I am sorry. But I think you are the best placed of your people to understand what a treaty with Apophis would mean for your world. Your Stargate programme would be shut down, and your world left defenceless against Apophis' armada. Even if your people would not listen to my proposal, perhaps you and I, and a few others, might find a way to prevent this." Daniel simply looked sceptical.

"Daniel. I have learned much about this universe, but the aid of someone who has lived in it and travelled as you have travelled would be of inestimable value to me. With your aid, I might stand a chance of overthrowing Apophis, by guile and subversion, instead of force of arms. The other System Lords will seek to stand in open combat, and will fall before him. Your leaders will hand your world to him on a plate. _I_ am the only chance your world has."

Daniel watched Astarte for a long moment, then laughed out loud. "Well...That's an interesting way to look at it," he admitted. "So for the sake of argument let's say I accepted. What would be in it for me."

Astarte eyed him shrewdly. "Do you expect me to try and seduce you, Daniel?" She asked. "My interests lie elsewhere, as I am sure you know. And I credit you with more intelligence and self-discipline than that." She turned her face bashfully to the floor, and gave him a sly look through her long lashes. "Although I hear that you _are_ quite the ladies man." Daniel blushed. "What is in it for you?" Astarte repeated, sobering rapidly. "Vengeance. The destruction and humiliation of the one who stole your wife."

"I'm not a huge fan of vengeance," Daniel told her, not entirely honestly. He had once threatened to murder a helpless Apophis with his bare hands, and meant it. The once-lord of Chulak had cheated death far too often for Daniel's liking, but he was not about to join forces with one conqueror to destroy another; not even Apophis.

Astarte raised an eyebrow, sceptically. "Are you not? Well then, there is always power and wealth. Not to mention the opportunity to protect your home."

"Avarice _and_ altruism? It's tempting," Daniel admitted. "But if it's all the same to you, I'd rather just go back to my cell now. You see, I can't really see any difference between Apophis attacking the Earth, and you attacking the Earth, and since I'm not much for power and wealth either..."

"I will leave the option open to you, Daniel," Astarte told him, gesturing for her Jaffa. "But you should know that - whatever you decide - I intend for Jack O'Neill to be my consort. If you wish to live, I would advise that you give serious thought to persuading him to accept that offer."

Daniel nodded. "Yes. I could do that..." he began.

*

Rede followed behind Theos and Damia, mentally cursing the misfortune that had beset this whole mission, and trying to fight a nagging fear that her blithe assurances that everything would be straightforward really had jinxed the mission. _Maybe Jack was right; we should have brought a tank._ Now she was the team's last hope, which was a daunting prospect.

"So; tell me more about this Palace?" She said.

"It was the centre of power in our lands during the reign of the Sun God," Theos explained. "His home in Arcadia, from which he transmitted his wisdom and law to the Pythoness. Now it is the home of Circe."

"And she destroyed Helios?" Rede asked, as the young Theban led her through the thick forest. She had exchanged her formal suit for a simple smock and skirt and a pair of heavy boots which Damia had lent her.

"She appeared the same day Helios vanished," Theos explained. "And told us that she had put him to flight. Clio confirmed that Helios was gone, and that the people of Thebes were free of him, and the Magistrates unanimously voted for the priesthood to continue to be our spiritual leaders. Clio declared Circe our friend and our saviour, and that was that."

"And what happened after that?"

"Well, first they brought in the Hoplites to keep order, and their leaders started making trouble with the priesthood. The Spartii never followed Helios; they called him a false god, and he considered them a rabble; not worth the trouble of conquest. They swore allegiance to the Heptarch, but made it clear that they distrusted Helios' servants. The feeling was mutual. A few of the more outspoken priestesses wanted to send them away, but Circe insisted that they were needed. Others wanted to disband the priesthood altogether, but Clio favoured adapting it to a non-religious form; a sort of spiritual academy. When she died the priesthood almost split, but Zoë held them together."

"Sounds like a formidable woman," Rede said. "How did Aristeias manage to get a hold over her?"

"Blackmail," Theos replied, bitterly. "He said he would kill any other man who sat on the Heptarch's throne. She thought she might be able to convince the Council to take action against him, but..." He broke off, taking an angry swing at an inoffensive clump of bracken. Rede nodded, silently.

"With Circe behind him," Damia took up. "And the Council's support, there's nothing Zoë can do to curb his power or prevent him using the Spartii to gain control of the country."

"How many rebel groups are there? Groups like yours."

Damia gave a bitter laugh. "None. We're a few dissidents; I wouldn't even call us rebels. We have a few friends in the Council Hall, and a few of the Spartii seem to be worried about Circe's true motives, but we couldn't even muster the strength for a raiding party. Even if we did..."

"What?"

"Echthonus, my contact in the Spartii, has heard a rumour that if rebels ever become a serious threat, the Heptarch will have the Pythoness murdered, and blame the rebels." Theos tore into another blameless piece of unsuspecting flora. "If it were believed, it would be the end for our cause."

"It's more than that," Rede said. "You don't let something like that slip to the guards by accident; they wanted you to know. They probably knew that you have friends among the Spartii and let it get out to you this way."

"Why?" Damia asked. In answer, Rede pointed at Theos.

"So that potential rebels know that she'll die if they try anything; and that it will be their fault. They get the benefit of a deterrent without having to expose their true colours by publicly threatening the Pythoness."

"Gods!" Damia exclaimed. "I don't know how anyone can be so devious."

"It just takes practice; practice you haven't had under Helios. If I had to guess, I'd say that all of these plans are coming from Circe; she's the seasoned player..." She stopped as Theos stopped short. Rede and Damia came to a halt behind him.

"We're getting close to the Palace," he said. "We have to be quiet now; there may be patrols." Rede nodded, and followed as cautiously as she could manage.

After a few more minutes, they crested a low ridge, and Theos pointed down into a low vale. Rede saw immediately what he was pointing at, the Palace of Helios, and caught her breath in alarm.

*

The two Jaffa rudely flung Daniel back into the cell. His glasses were undamaged, and he looked unhurt, yet he lay worryingly still after landing with a muffled grunt on the floor. Amy and Jack crouched beside him, while Teal'c stood and glared at the Jaffa.

"Danny?" Jack asked. "You okay?"

"Daniel?" Amy put out a hand and turned Daniel gently onto his back. He responded by moaning in pain.

"How you feeling?" Jack asked, trying to hide his concern.

"You know all those times I've been beaten up by Jaffa?" Daniel asked, his voice a little slurred. "Amateurs."

"She tortured you?" Amy asked, aghast.

"No. Just gave me a good going over."

"How many fingers?" Jack asked, holding up his hand.

"Three," Daniel replied, correctly. "Don't worry, Jack. I think I'm just a little punch-drunk still. There's no serious damage; just a lot of pain."

"Bastards!" Amy spat at the Jaffa.

Daniel waved his hand dismissively. "Not them," he told her. "Underneath that sweet and sensitive façade, it turns out Astarte isn't just a torturer; she'd also make a pretty good Mafia enforcer."

"I guess you're losing your way with women," Jack teased, motioning for Amy to help lift Daniel onto on of the bunks.

"I just need to learn not to be so brutally honest with Goa'uld," Daniel assured him. "It really isn't healthy."

"You are next," the Jaffa said, pointing at Amy. Jack bunched his fists, ready to defy the guards again, but Daniel caught his arm.

"Don't make a fuss, Jack," he whispered. "The more she thinks you care, the worse it'll be." He laughed, grimacing in pain. "Good thing she doesn't think you like me that much." Jack smiled, grimly.

"I'll be okay," Amy assured him, standing and moving over to the patient Jaffa.

"Don't let her get behind you," Jack warned.

"And whatever you do, try not to get her mad," Daniel added. "I really mean that." Amy nodded her thanks, and was led away.

"Damnit," Jack muttered. "This is all my fault. If we'd killed her when we had a chance..."

"Then we would have died in that other universe," Teal'c reminded him.

"Oh," Daniel mumbled. "Did you tell Amy this was the Astarte from the..." He broke off as Jack nodded. "Good; she said she was thinking of spilling some blood if she had to go through the 'oh you're that Astarte' conversation again."

"Sounds about right."

"Daniel Jackson; what do you suppose she wishes with Lieutenant Kawalsky?" Teal'c asked.

Daniel shrugged. "Same thing she wanted with me. She wants to get to Jack." He turned to face Jack. "Persuade you to come over to her voluntarily," he added.

"Why? She can just put the snake in my head anyway."

"Because then you'd have won," Daniel told him. "She needs you to surrender to her, by hook or by crook. Josephine told me that Astarte was very insecure; that she is clever and charming because she's weak for a Queen. It makes her need to subvert and conquer."

"Wow. That's one messed up girl."

"It is a common failing among the Goa'uld," Teal'c assured them. "But one usually satisfied by force and the use of narcotics such as nishta and the Queen's breath."

"So why'd she wail on you, Danny Boy?" Jack asked. "Not exactly making me like her any better."

"Well, after I turned down an offer to join her megalomaniac crusade, she told me I should talk you into accepting her offer if I wanted to live, and I told her you'd never accept."

"Just that?"

"That was the gist." Daniel paused. "Some of my words may - I admit - have been ill-chosen. 'Crazy as a loon' didn't seem to go over too well; and 'not if you were the last woman in the universe' probably wasn't what she wanted to hear either."

"And this is the crack team they send on the diplomatic missions?" Jack commented, dryly.

"At least I stopped short of telling her that dress made her look fat," Daniel replied, with another pained laugh.

_*_

After the Jaffa left her in Astarte's private audience chamber, a servant showed Amy to a seat, washed and bandaged her battered fingers, and brought a glass of wine that the young lieutenant stubbornly did not drink.

"Are you not thirsty?" After hearing an account of Jack's interview with Astarte, Amy had steeled herself for the surprise tactics, but nevertheless, the Goa'uld's voice sounded close enough behind her to make her jump.

"I don't drink," Amy replied, defensively.

"An extraordinary evolutionary development," Astarte said, lightly, as she walked around to take her place on the couch again. She was still dressed in the Theban robe, and seemed perfectly at ease.

"I don't drink _alcohol_ ," Amy explained, her tone condescending. Astarte nodded, motioned with her hand, and the servant appear with a crystal jug of clear water.

"Please; help yourself," Astarte invited, pouring herself a glass and sipping delicately. "So, my dear. You were one of the travellers who came to my world two months ago. Amy Kawalsky; is that correct?"

"Lieutenant, USAF," Amy affirmed. "I can give you my serial number if you'd like, but that's all you're getting."

"Why so very formal? I am making an effort to be civilised in my dealings with you and your companions, but you do make it difficult."

"You beat the crap out of Daniel. How was that civilised?" Amy demanded, angrily. Astarte gave her a shrewd, penetrating look, that Amy did not like one bit.

"Daniel Jackson. I had heard he was a fascinating individual; I am pleased not to be disappointed. Tell me about your relationship with Jack," Astarte said. Her tone was still light, but the words were clearly an order.

"He's my CO on this mission. That's all."

Astarte tutted gently. "Good soldiers make poor liars. I suppose that might speak well of your ability as a soldier." Amy did not let herself react, either to the insult, or the slightly backhanded compliment. Astarte smiled at her, a warm, genuine smile that felt distinctly unnerving. "Do you know what I admire about your world?"

"It's handy for the shops?" Amy hazarded, drawing a laugh.

"The women," Astarte told her. "I have seen men like those of the Tau'ri elsewhere, but women like you, or Samantha Carter; few other worlds produce anything of the kind. "You probably won't believe me, but I respect you."

"You're right; I don't believe you."

Astarte fixed her again with a penetrating look. "As I said; poor liars."

"Is there..."

"...a point?" Astarte guessed. "Of course, but you mortals are always so impatient. You never stop to just...savour life." She sighed, and the gaze she turned on Amy now was compassionate. "I suppose I can understand that. You are in superb shape, the prime of your life; but how long can that last? Five, ten years before you start to slow down; to grow old. Less than that if you are badly injured. I suspect I would be impatient if I had so little time." The Goa'uld half-turned towards the window. "So little li..."

With sudden violence, Amy started up, flung her glass at the distracted Astarte and bolted for the window. The doors were sure to be locked, but if she could get out and away, she might be able to find a way to contact the SGC. From the corner of her eye, she was dimly conscious of Astarte turning, a look of baffled amazement on her face as she raised her hand defensively. Glass shattered. Amy ripped back the curtains, swinging her leg up over the balcony...and then she stopped.

"It's only a little life," Astarte said, behind her. "But does it mean that little to you?"

A surge of vertiginous fear welled up inside Amy as she stared out of the window, at the two-hundred foot, steep, sheer incline of the hull of a Goa'uld Ha'tak vessel. She gave an involuntary cry as her momentum carried her out past the balcony, but then a strong hand seized her, and dragged her back into the room.

"You see!" Astarte cried, delightedly. Dazed, Amy could only gaze up in astonishment as the Goa'uld laughed like a child with a new toy. Then a chill ran down her spine, as she realised that in such a scenario, she herself was the new toy. "That is precisely what I was talking about. Such boldness, such spirit..." Amy hurled herself at the woman, lashing out with a perfectly-executed strike to the solar plexus. Before she got halfway through the manoeuvre, a blast from Astarte's hand device hurled her, stunned, back to the floor. "...such reckless courage," the Goa'uld continued, as though never interrupted.

"I don't believe you when you deny a deeper relationship to my Jack," Astarte said, crouching next to Amy. Idly, she straightened the girl's hair, and action which seemed ridiculous to Amy when she was lying on the floor in a foetal position. "But you do not seem to be a direct threat to our relationship." Amy laughed, and it hurt because she was winded. "I think that I might find a use for you, Amy Kawalsky."

"Yeah? Great." Amy forced ragged breaths into her lungs. "You wouldn't be so tough without your toys, you know. Lose the hand device, call off the Jaffa; let's you and me go round."

Astarte laughed again. "Oh, dear Amy. There is a lot of Jack O'Neill in you, isn't there."

 

Amy had been gone for about half-an-hour when the door reopened, and she walked in, under her own power.

"You did better than I did, I see," Daniel commented. He was sitting up now, but looked about ready to collapse any moment.

"For now," Amy replied, distractedly. "Teal'c; I need a second."

"As you wish," Teal'c said, moving towards one side of the room. A little nonplussed, Daniel and Jack nonetheless tried to look and listen elsewhere.

"No," Amy told them all. "I mean I need you to be my second. I kind of threw down on Astarte, and she accepted. We're fighting to the death at sunset. Astarte suggested I ask you to be my second."

"No!" Jack declared. "That's not going to happen."

Daniel looked doubtful. "Well...I share your concern, Jack. I'm just not convinced we can do anything to stop it."

"I can order you not to fight," Jack told Amy.

"You think that'll stop her killing me?" Jack frowned, but could not really argue. "I want you to know I didn't plan this out or anything. I didn't go up there to get into a duel, but I can do this. I've got most of the same training as you or Major Carter, if not the experience. In a fair fight, I reckon I can take her."

Daniel frowned. "I don't know. Josephine told me that Astarte was a...skilled fighter."

"Skilled?" Amy asked.

"The word she used was lethal."

"It is true, Lieutenant Kawalsky," Teal'c assured her. "I saw her fight, once, and she was both quick and deadly."

"Certainly not a girl who's afraid to get her hands dirty," Jack confirmed. Amy's face paled visibly. Jack felt a knife of fear I his heart, suddenly certain that he could do nothing to save Amy Kawalsky; just like he had been unable to save her brother. "Okay, gang," he said, trying hard to sound more confident than he was. "We need a plan. Teal'c?"

"We are unable to leave this cell except under guard, and the guards are too well-drilled to afford us much opportunity to escape."

"I was hoping for something more positive than that," Jack admitted. "Daniel?"

"Well...maybe." Amy cocked her head in Daniel's direction, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "We know that Astarte has a healthy respect for her own mortality, but what about her guards?" The others looked blankly at him. "They still think she's a goddess; or at least a mighty sorceress," he explained. "So as long as we don't actually threaten her, they are likely to be less alert around her; to think she will take care of everything. Right?"

"Maybe," Jack allowed.

"It doesn't look as thought she was able to bring many of her people through to this universe, so most of her guards are Thebans, and haven't been in training for more than a year. Add the fact that they're all obsessed with her, then put her in a ring, fighting tooth-and-nail with another pretty girl, and what's going to happen?"

"I get killed?" Amy hazarded.

"The Jaffa will be distracted," Teal'c realised. "The majority of Astarte's guards _are_ younger warriors, lacking in experience. They will focus on the most direct threat they perceive to their mistress' well-being, to the exclusion of all else."

Jack nodded, thoughtfully. "So if Amy stalls; fights on the defensive..."

"...then we might have a chance to get free," Daniel finished. "Then we can break up the fight and make our escape."

Amy shook her head. "That's nuts. If you lot can get loose, then you should go. Don't come back..."

"No," Jack replied, firmly. "And this isn't personal, Lieutenant. I just don't like to leave anyone behind."

"Lieutenant Kawalsky is correct," Teal'c asserted. "To return for her would be foolish." He turned to face Amy. "But Colonel O'Neill is also correct, that it would be a cold day in Netu when we would leave a comrade behind to die."

"Cold day in Hell," Jack corrected. "But thanks."

Amy frowned, but could not pretend that she was entirely unhappy with this resolution. "What about getting out of the cell?" She asked, concerned again.

"Don't worry about that," Daniel told her. "There's no way Astarte will let us miss this one."

"Besides," Teal'c added. "I at least will have to be present as your second. If we are correct in our assessment, that should give me ample opportunity to escape."

"What if I see an opening?" Amy asked. "What if I have a chance to kill her?"

"Pass it up," Jack replied. "Her Jaffa might well just shoot you, and I don't feel like giving her a reason to try and jump from her old host into you." Amy shuddered.

The cell door opened once more, and a servant entered, with two guards following him. He placed a tray on the floor, with four wooden cups, a jug of water, four chunks of bread and a plate of meat stew.

"The meat is for the woman," one of the guards informed them. "Circe wishes her strong, so she may face her death with honour."

"Aren't we the optimist," Jack observed. Astarte's servants left without laughing.

"Is it drugged, do you think?" Amy asked.

Teal'c tasted a little of the stew, a sip of water and a crumb of bread. "I feel no ill-effects," he said, after a few minutes. "I would know if my symbiote was removing a drug from my system."

"She probably just wants us to know that she's taking no advantages," Daniel told Amy. "She wants to be sure we know she can beat you."

Amy smiled, nervously. "Scary woman," she said. When Teal'c still showed no sign of collapsing, she picked up the plate and began to eat.

"Do not eat all of it," Teal'c cautioned. "You will fight better without a full stomach." Amy nodded. "If Astarte intends a formal duel by Goa'uld rules, then the combat will require speed and agility. The weapons will be light and fast, intended for shallow, drawing cuts. When your opponent is weakened, only then would you attempt a killing thrust."

"Like knife fighting. Except I won't," Amy added. "Do the killing thrust, that is."

"Indeed."

The door opened a third time, and the servant returned, bearing a pile of cloth and metal.

"And this is...?" Jack asked.

"Formal duelling attire," Teal'c replied. "Thank you," he told the servant. "I will do what is necessary." The servant bowed, and handed the pile over to Teal'c before leaving the cell. Teal'c passed the clothes to Amy, and she looked them over.

"Well; at least it isn't a jewelled fightin' bikini," she allowed. Jack and Daniel averted their eyes as she undressed and changed into the duelling costume. "Hey; this isn't half bad. I mean, I'm not saying I'd wear it around town, but special occasions..."

The two men looked back towards Amy. The outfit consisted of a close-fitting, but not skin-tight, white blouse, and a knee-length white, linen kilt.

"Garbed in skirt and blouse, like a man," Daniel commented.

Jack gave his friend a concerned look. "Took a knock to the head after all?" Amy looked equally baffled.

"My head is fine," Daniel assured them. "It's a quote from a story called the Seed of Pre, about the namesake of our old friend, Anat. As a warrior goddess, she dressed like a man; like that," he added, gesturing towards Amy. "It's a very traditional Egyptian outfit."

Amy nodded her understanding. "Did she win?" She asked.

"Well, she didn't fight in that story, but usually, yes. She ground her brother's killer into powder beneath her heel, and wore her enemies' corpses on her belt," he added. Amy smiled, just a little uncertainly.

"Don't you know any nice girls?" Jack asked.

"I don't seem to have any enemy corpses on me," Amy noted. "So I take it this is the belt?" She held up a strip of leather, studded with metal.

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed. "I will assist you with the armour."

Teal'c buckled the belt around Amy's waist, then fitted a round shield over the buckle to protect her abdomen. She gave a few experimental bends, and found that her movement was only slightly impeded. A bracer was strapped around each wrist, and Teal'c lifted a collar of linked trinium strips over her head. A chain of similar construction attached to the back of the collar, and to the back of the belt, giving some protection to her spine. Finally, there was a small shield, gripped in the left hand.

"This armour doesn't really armour very much, does it."

"Between Goa'uld, duelling technique focuses on speed, skill and agility, and if the fight is not to the death, then whatever damage is done may be repaired later by a sarcophagus. The armour will offer some protection if struck, but is primarily ceremonial." Amy swung her arms a little, working her joints to gain a feel for the armour; where it flexed and where it resisted.

"So why go to all this trouble?" Jack asked. "I thought Goa'uld fights were just a quick-draw match with those hand devices?"

"If two Goa'uld were to clash in earnest, yes," Teal'c agreed. "Blade duelling is an ancient sport, used for resolving formal competition. It was greatly used to settle disputes before the overthrow of Sokar destabilised the alliance of System Lords and made warfare and espionage commonplace. I have not heard of two Goa'uld engaging in such a duel since the death of Ra."

"I suppose without a higher authority, the Goa'uld don't trust each other to honour the outcome," Daniel mused.

"Or to put the loser in a sarcophagus in case of 'accident'," Jack added.

"So tell me straight up," Amy said. "What are my chances of coming through this alive?" Jack and Daniel tried not to meet her eyes. She turned to Teal'c. "That bad?"

"She would not have challenged you if she were not confident of the outcome."

"Terrific." She moved over to a corner of the cell, and sat down, heavily. The three men looked at each other, and after a long pause, Jack moved over and crouched in front of her.

"I'm really sorry about this," he told her.

"Not your fault," Amy replied, listlessly.

"No. It is. All this crap is aimed at me; none of you should be here."

"I knew the risks when I joined up," Amy assured him. "They made it clear what I was getting into before they accepted my transfer to SGC. I didn't walk into this with my eyes closed, and nor did Daniel and Teal'c."

"Why did you transfer?" Jack asked. "I know it's not just to find to what happened to Kawalsky, because Hammond wouldn't have looked twice at your application if it were."

"It was something he said to me; the last leave before..." She choked up for a moment, then went on. "He told me that everything else in his job had started to seem meaningless. He never let on, but he'd been about yay close to resigning when he got picked up by the SGC. He didn't tell me the name of course, but he did tell me that he felt that he was where he was needed. That more than he had for years, he felt like he was doing something that really mattered. And I wanted to be a part of that."

Jack smiled, wistfully, feeling a clutch of nostalgia, as well as recognising only too well the sentiment. "I know how he felt," he told Amy.

"Yeah. Me too."

Jack reached over and gripped Amy's shoulder, supportively. "You just stall her," he said. "We'll come get you out. Okay."

Amy nodded, trusting. "Okay," she replied with a small smile. Jack smiled back, hoping he could make good on his promise.

*

"How much longer," Sam asked.

"Don't make me turn this teltac around and go home," Jacob threatened, but his tone was sympathetic.

"Twenty-one hours," Anat told her. "Or there about. Not much less than when you last asked."

"I'm sorry. I'm just..."

"I know," Anat assured her. "But we can't go any faster, not even in the Hope."

"A lot can happen in twenty-one hours," Sam replied, morosely.

"That's the ticket; think positive," Jacob encouraged. Sam frowned. "Come on, Sam. How many times have SG-1 been captured? How many times have you been given up for dead by everyone?"

"A bunch," Sam admitted. "But sometimes they've been right, and I can't shake the fear that this time could be for good. Besides...usually I'm there with them. I just hate not knowing."

Jacob nodded, sympathetically. "I know, Sam. You just have to trust that they can take care of themselves for a few days."

"Maybe you should try and rest," Anat suggested. "I know it probably feels like you couldn't sleep, but it will make the journey go much faster."

"What if we're too late?" Sam asked.

"We're not," Anat insisted. "They're okay, and we'll get there in the nick of time to save them. You'll see." Anat's words were almost a plea, her voice filled with desperate hope, and Sam felt it would be wrong to disillusion her with further doubts.

"You're right," she said. "Of course they'll be fine." The air in the cockpit hung heavy with the comforting half-lies. "I'm going to get some sleep."

*

"You ready?" Jack asked, as the door opened.

"I'd better be," Amy replied, bravely. "Wish me luck?"

Jack clasped Amy's hand and threw his other arm around her shoulders. "Just stay cool," he told her. "You'll be fine."

"Good luck," Daniel said, giving her a comforting hug. Amy squeezed her arms tightly around his torso, and Daniel could feel the fear and tension that she was managing not to show. "We'll be there," he whispered, as the Jaffa entered the cell.

"You," the leader said, gesturing at Amy. "Come with us." Amy followed them, and Teal'c followed Amy. "Not you," the Jaffa said.

"I am Lieutenant Kawalsky's armour bearer and second. By tradition I must accompany her to the field of combat." The leader looked uncertain, but his attempt to stare down Teal'c was doomed from the start, and he backed down.

"Alright. But you two will go with these Jaffa to the viewing gallery."

"Okay ," Jack acceded, as four more guards surrounded he and Daniel.

"Take care of yourselves," Amy enjoined them.

"You too," Daniel replied.

 

"So, how do you fancy our chances?" Jack asked Daniel in a whisper.

"To be honest, I think we're all going to die horribly," Daniel replied. "But I've thought that so many times I'm starting not to believe it. Although," he added, after a moment's thought. "I've been right about it before."

"Speak for yourself. You're the one with the death habit."

"But I've been cold turkey for months now."

"Silence!" One of the Jaffa barked.

"Wow," Jack muttered. "Cranky. If I do end up as Astarte's consort, I think I'm going to send all the staff out for people skills training."

 

"So, how do you fancy our chances?" Amy asked Teal'c.

"We have been in less promising situations," Teal'c hedged.

"Such as?"

"Being stranded in open space," Teal'c offered. "Three times now; once without a ship."

"Your lives must just be the funnest," Amy commented. "I guess it's true that SG-1 really do do six impossible things before breakfast." Teal'c raised an eyebrow, questioningly. "It's from a book," Amy said. "Alice in Wonderland."

"I am familiar with the quotation," Teal'c assured her. "But I had never heard it applied to SG-1 before."

Amy shrugged. "It's what they say," she assured him.

"Also, I believe that version of the quotation comes from The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and not Through the Looking Glass."

"Quite the culture vulture, aren't you?"

"So I have been told," Teal'c replied.

"Tell me straight," Amy said. "Am I going to die?"

"We will do all in our power to prevent it, Lieutenant Kawalsky."

"Weirdly enough, I find that more comforting than a 'no'."

 

The lead Jaffa opened a door, and gestured for Jack and Daniel to enter.

"You will watch from here, and witness Circe's triumph."

"Care to make a small wager on that?" Jack asked.

"Wager?"

"Yeah. If Lieutenant Kawalsky kicks Circe's tail, you let us have the guns and we walk out of here. If Circe wins...I submit to all of her demands."

The Jaffa smirked, confidently. "Agreed," he said.

The door led to a viewing gallery, with a narrow window, high above the floor of a wide, open courtyard, flanked by columned cloisters. As they looked out, Jack and Daniel saw about two dozen Jaffa and maybe twice as many of Astarte's servants gathered behind a rope barrier that framed an oval space in the centre of the room.

"Are you crazy?" Daniel asked in a whisper. "What happens if Astarte wins?"

"Relax, Danny. We're not letting it get that far, and besides; you really think they'd hand over their weapons if our girl wins?" Daniel shook his head. "Right; so where's the harming in giving him one more reason to watch closely." He gestured with his head towards the lead Jaffa, who stood at the window, gazing intently onto the arena. There were still two Jaffa at the door, and two outside it, but this one at least was paying them no attention at all.

In the courtyard below, Amy and Teal'c stood at one end of the arena created by the rope barrier, facing a large archway. Jack leaned forward, gripping the windowsill, his knuckles white with tension.

"She'll be okay," Daniel assured him. "We'll get her home."

"You know what amazes me?" Jack asked.

"What?"

"That I've always managed to bring you three home. I mean, God; the number of times we've almost given you up for dead, Danny." A little hesitantly, Daniel brought up a hand and gave Jack's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. It looked a little odd, with Daniel being noticeably smaller than Jack.

In the arena, Teal'c looked up, first away from them, and then towards them. Jack raised a hand, and the Jaffa nodded in response. As he looked back up, a movement caught his eye.

"Are those the Magistrates?" Jack asked, pointing across to a gallery opposite, where a group of robed men were taking seats.

"That's them," Daniel confirmed. "And the Heptarch. Looks like the missus decided to skip though." Two of the Magistrates - Archon Palmys, and a thin man with a narrow face - looked as though they would rather have been elsewhere as well.

Somewhere below the gallery, trumpets blared an atonal fanfare.

"My God!" Jack cried. "What is that?"

"The Hellenic Greeks had a very different concept of music to ours," Daniel told him. "To them...N Synch would be incomprehensible noise." Jack gave Daniel a look of false shock. "Okay. Bad example," Daniel admitted. "But I listen to more Hellenic fanfares than pop music."

"Wise choice," Jack agreed, sagely.

Through the archway opposite Teal'c and Amy, Astarte entered, clad in duelling robes identical to those she had supplied for Amy. On her head, she wore a great mask, bearing the likeness of her face in jet black metal, and on her right hand, a Goa'uld ribbon device. At her shoulder walked her First Prime, dressed in armour similar to that of the Spartii Hoplites.

"My people," Astarte spoke, the mask amplifying her voice to fill the huge chamber without being raised. "Strangers have come to challenge me; to challenge my right and ability to protect you from the Titans."

"Titans?" Jack asked Daniel.

"Greek proto-Gods," Daniel replies. "They ruled the Earth before a revolt of the younger gods..." Jack's eyes began to glaze over. "Probably Cronus and his servants," Daniel finished, briefly.

"I will answer this challenge by showing these strangers that I am a match for them, and not afraid to stand up in person to defend my adopted world and people." She reached up, and pressed the stud that retracted her mask, and Rehetep lifted the heavy collar from her shoulders, leaving only the lighter armour such as Amy wore. Then a servant scuttled up with a cushion, and she laid on it her hand device. She stepped forward, proud and fearless, and Jack felt his heart stumble and waver at the sight of her.

Then - at a prompting from Teal'c - Amy walked out into the arena, frightened but self-possessed, and reality flooded back in, leaving Jack revolted at his own weakness.

"Just don't do anything stupid," he murmured, willing Amy to hear him.

 

"Traditionally we would battle in masks," Astarte told Amy, companionably. "But as you are unfamiliar with the weight and restrictions of such a garment, we shall dispense with it."

"Good of you," Amy muttered. Astarte just smiled, and clapped her hands. From behind each of them, a servant appeared, carrying a small, sickle-shaped sword - a khopesh, Amy recalled from somewhere in her training - on a cushion.

Astarte lifted her blade, and gave a few swings to gauge the balance, and Amy did the same. The weapon was about two feet long, not including the hilt, but the deep curve meant that it was a little more than eighteen inches from the crossguard to the blade-tip in a straight line. The blade was narrow and light, and the balance was good. It was not quite like the knives she had trained with in the Air Force, but she felt certain she could adapt quickly; if she got the chance.

Astarte raised her khopesh in salute, and Amy returned the gesture.

"So when do we start?" Amy asked, warily.

"Now," Astarte replied, pleasantly, and she stepped forward, bringing her blade across in a wide arc at Amy's face.

 

Amy held up well in the first few passes, Teal'c noted, despite the unfamiliarity of the weapons. She was somewhat off balance, and clearly at a disadvantage, but she had quickly fallen into a defensive stance while she felt out Astarte's style and rallied her strength for a counter attack. That was as much as Teal'c had seen however, as he turned his attention to the watching Jaffa. As Daniel Jackson had predicted, their attention was fixed on the battle. Young and inexperienced, they allowed their fear for their mistress' safety to become the very thing that endangered her.

Moving casually, Teal'c took a step backwards. Then he took another. There was no response from the guards who were supposed to be watching him. Another step and he was out of their line of sight. Still moving slowly and easily, he turned and slipped away through the servants, towards a side door. He had been on Ha'tak vessels before, and one such as this - constructed and furnished as a mobile palace more than a dedicated warship - would have a very standardised layout. Perhaps under Astarte that would not be the case, but Helios would not have had the imagination to order his ship constructed along different lines.

That being the case, the side door should take him straight up to the viewing gallery.

 

"She's good," Jack commented.

"Which one?" Daniel asked, trying without much success to follow the fierce exchange of blows in the courtyard below them. Both men were tense now; they had seen Teal'c slip away from his place, and were keen to ensure the Jaffa beside them did not notice.

"Amy," Jack replied. "I mean, Astarte as well, but I knew that."

"She is quite something," Daniel agreed. "Amy that is."

"Youngest child and only daughter in a family of seven. Whole family Air Force. She was always tough," Jack agreed.

"You sound pretty proud of her...Uncle Jack."

Jack smiled. "God that takes me back. I was more a seventh brother to her than an uncle back..."

Jack broke off, as sounds of fighting came from outside the door. The Jaffa at the window turned, slowly. The sound of a body striking the ground was followed by silence, and he gestured for the two guards at the door to ready their weapons.

Quick as a flash, Jack stepped sideways and drove his elbow into the Jaffa's gut. The warrior folded with a grunt, and his two companions began to turn. At the same moment, the door burst open, and Teal'c stepped through. With a hunting goad in each hand, he fired simultaneously into the two guards, then swung the goad in his right hand to strike one of the Jaffa on the jaw. Daniel threw himself forward, driving the other shocked guard headfirst, hard into the wall. He dropped alongside the other, as Jack finished off the leader with a chop to the back of the neck.

"Impressive as always," Jack commented, looking through the door to the prone forms of the other two Jaffa.

"They were ill-trained and unprepared," Teal'c replied. He tossed a hunting goad to each of his companions, and Jack kicked the leader's staff weapon into the Jaffa's hands.

"Here's hoping they're all like that," Daniel replied, checking over the hunting goad. With a sharp hiss, a blast of energy slapped into the wall by Jack's head. "Right. That's how it fires," Daniel mused.

"Glad you worked that out," Jack said, acidly. Daniel gave a sheepish grin. "Let's move."

The three of them made their way, quickly back to the arena courtyard. On Earth, such a spectacle would be accompanied by the bloodthirsty cries of the audience, but this crowd were silent, watching in mute awe, so that the only sound which reached their ears was the clashing of blade against blade.

When they were ten feet from the door into the courtyard, even that sound ceased. The three men shared a look, and ran the remaining distance to the door. As the emerged, the crowd began to stir, and gave forth a slow chant:

"Circe! Circe!"

Pressing forward, SG-1 manoeuvred so that they could see the arena. Amy and Astarte stood very still, Amy's blade held by her side. For a moment, neither moved, but then Amy fell heavily to her knees, and Astarte raised her hands in triumph.

"No," Daniel whispered, trying to deny the obvious, but then the young lieutenant's body toppled sideways and back, and they could see Astarte's sickle-shaped sword, lodged in her trunk, just below the ribs.

"No!" Jack echoed, louder than he had intended. Astarte's head snapped up, and the chant stumbled and fell silent as all eyes turned to the three escapees.

"Jaffa; kree!" Astarte ordered. Behind her, Rehetep had already raised a zat'nik'tel. Jack knew that he should react; had to react. In his mind, he raised the goad and fired, but his body was sluggish with shock and horror, and before he even began the movement, the zat blast had struck him in the chest, sending him stumbling to the floor.

As Jack fell, two pulses from the hunting goads struck him, making his body jerk and convulse, and four or five slapped into Daniel, felling him painfully to crash down beside his friend. Teal'c, the most experienced of the three, had managed to avoid the worst of the shock which had paralysed his friends for a few critical seconds, and was already in motion when a goad pulse hit him. Shrugging off the pain, he kept moving, doing the only thing he could do.

He ran.

In the hall, Astarte ordered Rehetep and a handful of Jaffa in pursuit of Teal'c, while Jack and Daniel lay still.


	2. The Way to Go

An intercom beside Sam's bed bleeped urgently. She looked around at the cramped sleeping quarters as her brain remembered where she was, and then she reached for the bleeping device.

"Yes?" She asked, groggily.

"We're there," Anat replied.

 

The Hope skimmed low over the trees, heading in the rough direction of the Theban capital. There was a large, bright moon - larger and brighter than Earth's moon ever was - which cast a ghostly light over the forest.

"Do we have a plan?" Anat asked. She, Sam and Jacob were back in the teltac's cockpit, all feeling a little the worse for sleeping in their clothes during the trip.

Sam checked her watch. "In about ninety minutes the SGC is going to open the Gate from Cheyenne Mountain. They'll try to signal SG-1's field radios. If they're active, then even if we don't get a reply, we should be able to triangulate their location. That'll be where we start looking."

"Or…" Jacob began.

"Or we could start there," Sam agreed, as the summit of Astarte's Ha'tak loomed over the trees, lights glimmering dimly from the windows near to the peak.

"I'll find somewhere to set down," Anat agreed.

"Look at the state of that thing," Sam commented. "I doubt it's flown in years."

"Centuries," Jacob confirmed. "Selmak tells me that Cronus crippled Helios' mothership when he placed him under house arrest on Arcadia."

"Hell of a place for an exile," Sam replied. "I could retire here quite happily."

"That was the Goa'uld interest; only it ran out once there was nothing to shoot."

Sam shook her head, baffled as ever by the Goa'uld mindset. How could anyone come to a place this beautiful just to kill things?

"I suppose it makes sense as a hideout then," she commented. "If nobody's talking to Helios then no-one will miss him if he vanishes. And if no-one ever comes here, they'll never see that you've moved in. Plus the views from the top of that thing must be spectacular."

"It all looks a little green and leafy for my taste," Anat said. "But then I grew up at Giza. Okay; I've found a spot." With great care and skill, the girl brought the cloaked vessel down into a small clearing.

"Smooth," Jacob said, with approval.

"Oh, I've become very good with clandestine landings over the last six months," Anat assured him. "If this place is packed full of angry Jaffa then it _still_ won't be the most hostile reception I've faced." The Hope gently touched down. "This may not be the best of all possible worlds," Anat continued. "But it does seem better than most."

"That's a scary thought," Sam admitted, with a grim smile. "So. Who's up for a little reconnaissance?"

Anat worked a few controls. "I'm reading minimal power from the Ha'tak," she said. "No active transport rings. If you want to go in, you're going to have to find a door."

"That could be difficult," Jacob admitted. "Most Goa'uld motherships aren't big on open access."

"On the other hand," Sam mused. "If she's been there all this time, without power, then they may have had to add ground access." Jacob nodded his agreement. "Worth a look anyway. For now, I suggest a small recon team, while the rest wait for the SGC to signal."

"Nah-uh," her father chided. "Don't suggest. I'm not wearing my general's hat today."

Sam nodded, and smiled wryly. "Okay, civilian. Reckon you remember enough of your military training to accompany the patrol? I could maybe use a Tok'ra eye out there."

"My pleasure, Major Carter," Jacob replied.

"That's odd," Anat remarked.

Sam frowned. "What's odd?"

"Probably nothing," the younger woman replied. "Just an anomalous reading. I'm going to lift off again after you disembark; get Jason to take some more scans of the Ha'tak. It looks as though something in there is running power, but I'm not sure…" She shook her head. "I've powered down the communication sphere and the Hope's transport rings to avoid detection, but if you leave one of your radios with me, we'll come and collect you as soon as you call."

Sam nodded, gratefully. "We should be okay, but what if we get pinned down somewhere?"

"Well, the Hope doesn't have any weapons, but a backwash from the engines should rattle even the most fanatical Jaffa. Then we can cover you from the hatch until you get in."

"Sounds great," Sam agreed. "Though we'll try not to need it. Dad?" She gestured towards the hatch.

"After you, Major," Jacob insisted.

*

In the dark, windowless bowels of the Ha'tak vessel, Teal'c was coming to the conclusion that he was thoroughly lost.

As he had discerned earlier, this mothership was a relict of the relative peace and stability at the height of Ra's rule. It was built around an old, very standardised and open-plan design, maximising comfort at the expense of firepower and combat endurance. Apophis had once possessed a vessel very much like this. He had long since taken to using more powerful and battle-ready ships, but he still used the older vessel as a training camp where his Serpent Guard could learn to operate and to fight on board a starship. Consequently, Teal'c knew the layout of such ships intimately.

However, while little had been done to the upper levels, the lower decks had clearly been customised, not just during construction, but during the vessel's operational lifespan. The corridors down here wound around large, glass-fronted cells, which the Jaffa realised were animal pens. Helios must have been a collector in his day, although there were no specimens here now. Unfortunately, the constant winding of the route - designed no doubt for touring the menagerie - left Teal'c somewhat baffled as to his current location in the ship.

He knew that he was on the lower decks, and somewhere towards the heart of the ship, which was at least more-or-less where he wanted to be. While the main rings in the Master's antechambers would be impossible to reach - and by the looks of the ship, probably non-functional - there should be a set of freight rings somewhere on these lower levels. These would be closer to the power core, and even if they were down, Teal'c was certain he could manage to jump-start them with enough power to transport himself to the Ha'tak's pyramid landing base, and thus leave the mothership.

Barring that, there were always the tunnels, but he had been unconscious on the journey to the Palace, and he was not convinced that he could find his way back; let alone get away from the Council Hall once he did so.

Once he was out, he could return to the Stargate and attempt to signal the SGC for assistance. If he could not reach the Gate, or if no assistance could be gained, he would have to find another way to rescue his friends.

In the centre of the menagerie, Teal'c found what he was looking for, the hyperspace machine room. As well as the power core, this vast, vaulted chamber contained the operational heart of the main hyperdrive engines, and the freight rings, used for bringing bulk cargo on board. The menagerie must have been built around the machine room to ease the process of transporting animals aboard.

Teal'c checked the central core, and realised that his plan would not work. The ship's main reactor had been crippled; deliberately and precisely. It was capable now of generating little more power than would be necessary to run the lighting and other basic functions of the ship. There would not be enough power to charge the transport rings, even if he could be sure that the rings in the pyramid below were active. As it was, he would be relying on an overcharged signal to activate the lower gate, and that was simply not going to happen.

Knowing that he might be found here any moment, Teal'c quickly explored the rest of the chamber, and located a small, partly hidden door behind the reactor. In the centre of the door was a lock that resembled a sliding block puzzle, and Teal'c tentatively moved the blocks into a particular, asymmetric configuration.

To his great surprise, the door swung open. The puzzle lock was an old favourite of Cronus and his faction, and each of his under-Lords had their own code. Cronus however, ensured that all of the locks used by his followers would yield to a master code, known only to himself and his First Prime. The secret of that code had been passed to Teal'c by his father, shortly before his death, but he knew that Cronus had changed the master after he killed his First Prime. Helios must have been considered an irrelevance, and so the code remained in this lock.

Teal'c looked inside, and raised an eyebrow in surprise. What he saw was of no use to him at the moment, but might be worth knowing in the future. He closed the door, reshuffled the lock, and slipped away.

*

High above Teal'c, in the palatial apartments at the summit of the pyramid ship, Daniel Jackson groaned as he came to. His body - already aching from the punishment dealt out to it by Astarte in her anger - now throbbed from the effects of multiple charges from a Goa'uld hunting goad; a device built like a half staff weapon, and designed to shock game animals, driving them towards a line of Goa'uld sport hunters. Teal'c had assured Daniel that the goad did no permanent harm, but he certainly felt like hell.

"My head hurts," Jack complained, somewhere not too far away.

"My everything hurts," Daniel replied, forcing his eyes open a crack and wincing at the light. His head rang as a metallic jingling cut through his consciousness. "What was that?"

"I'm chained to a wall," Jack replied. His voice was almost as shaky as Daniel felt. "How've you been?"

Daniel checked. "Yep. Me too." He tried to sit up, and found that, while it was painful, he was able to do so. He was lying on an opulent couch, in a magnificently decorated hall. A slim chain ran from his wrist to a bracket on the wall; it looked fragile, but Daniel was prepared to bet money that they were forged from trinium, or an alloy of similar strength. The jingle as the chain shifted was high and light, and battered at Daniel's senses like a gently babbling brook on a hangover. "How are you feeling?" He asked Jack.

"Probably better than Amy," Jack replied, his voice flat and expressionless.

Daniel felt a stab of guilt as the memory flooded back. "It's not your fault, Jack," he said. "It's not any of our fault."

"I'm her CO," Jack retorted. "I'm responsible for the officers and soldiers under my command. I'm starting to think I'm not that good at it," he added. "I lost most of my team on the first Stargate mission; and I've gotten all of SG-1 killed at least once."

"Come on Jack; you know you can't blame yourself for that."

"Yes I can!" Jack snapped, angrily. Then more softly: "I was supposed to look after her, Daniel. I promised Charlie, a long time ago, that if anything ever happened to him…If I died, he was going to look out for Sara, and if he died, I was going to take care of Amy."

"Jack." Daniel turned to face his friend. Jack was lying on his back on a couch just like Daniel's, staring at the ceiling. "Amy had six brothers and both parents. I've not known her as long as you have, but she's always been a very capable and stubborn girl. She had plenty of people to look after her, and she never needed it anyway." Jack turned a hollow gaze on the younger man. "No one could have prevented this, Jack. Not you; not me; not Kawalsky. No one."

"If we'd been quicker…"

"No."

"If I hadn't made Astarte jealous of…"

"No," Daniel repeated. "Astarte wanted a way to hurt you; she would have found it whatever you did." He reached out and squeezed Jack's shoulder. "Amy knew what she was doing, Jack. She accepted the risks when she took the post at SGC, and she knew the risks of stepping into that arena with Astarte."

"He is right, Jack," both men turned, started, to face Astarte as she entered the room. "Amy Kawalsky is indeed a remarkable young woman; almost as exceptional as Major Carter."

With a wordless below of rage, Jack hurled himself at Astarte, the chain snapping him short, just inches from striking distance. "Murderer!" He snarled.

"Well; yes," Astarte accepted. "Does that bother you?" Jack lashed out again. "I hope these quarters are acceptable. A little overdone for my tastes, but this was what Helios liked. I thought you might prefer it to your cells."

"Jack! Stop it; you'll hurt yourself," Daniel warned, as the Colonel continued to flail at Astarte.

"Just come a little closer," Jack spat. "I'll…" He broke off as Astarte stepped deftly inside his reach and drove a stiffened hand into his solar plexus. Jack tumbled backwards, winded and stunned. Daniel stooped to make sure he was alright, but Jack waved him away. Some of the blind rage seemed to have drained out of him however, and he sat down on his couch and glared.

"You seem quite out of sorts," Astarte commented. "But I know what will make you feel better." She turned and strode to the door. "I'm not a monster, Jack. But I am a killer; just like you."

 

Amy Kawalsky woke into darkness with a start, remembering with terror the feeling of a blade punching into her torso. On the edge of panic, she felt around that area - just below her diaphragm - and found a slit in her duelling blouse. The blouse was encrusted around the tear with dried blood, but the skin underneath was unbroken. Except…She put a finger through the slit and felt across her thorax. Yes; there was a small ridge of scar tissue, maybe an inch or less in length.

"What the f…" She looked up as a door opened, and light filled the room.

"Good. You are recovered."

"Astarte!" Amy said it as an accusation.

"Who else, Amy?" The Goa'uld was silhouetted in the doorway. "And what kind of welcome is that for someone who saved your life?"

"You killed me!"

"No. Merely wounded you." Stepping closer, she tugged aside the tail of Amy's blouse, and examined her with a clinical eye. Amy tried to pull away, but her body was aching and sluggish. When she tried to strike out at Astarte, the woman caught her arm easily in a firm, but gentle grip. "Mortally, for certain, but nothing beyond the ability of Goa'uld technology to heal."

"You put me in a sarcophagus," Amy concluded.

"There was no need," Astarte assured her. "A healing device was sufficient, and has left you with your scars. I want you to remember our duel, Amy, for a very long time."

"I'm not about to forget." Amy could now make out Astarte's features; the Goa'uld was smiling beatifically at her. "What do you want from me?"

"Want? Why, Amy; I want the most precious thing you have to give." The smile grew deeper, with an edge to it that made Amy shiver. "I want your body."

*

Sam moved cautiously through the undergrowth, constantly alert for any sign of the enemy. Jaffa soldiers might look clumsy in their heavy armour, but she knew from bitter experience that they were quite capable of stealth. Certainly more stealth than some of SG-14's members. Major Hamilton, Sam's 2IC for this mission, was a seasoned veteran, but his team were young and green, and were making more noise than Daniel. She was aware that by most standards the soldiers were good, but SG-1 had just had more practice.

Ahead of them, through the trees, the base of the pyramid filled her vision. The Ha'tak rested over most of the vast, stone structure, but stopped about thirty feet above the ground. At the centre of the pyramid's south-eastern face was a great portico, flanked by obelisks, which would itself have been an imposing building if not set next to the pyramid. Daniel had explained to Sam that this was a solar shrine, where the high priests in the service of the Gods - of the Goa'uld - would bring offerings to the gods, and in later pyramids, to those buried within. Having scouted the rest of the perimeter, Sam had seen no other indication of a way in, but then she had not expected to. If an entrance had been opened in the stranded Ha'tak's structure, it would most likely be within the pyramid, leading off the passages behind that portico.

Sam raised her hand, signalling the team - her team - to stop. The four soldiers hunkered down, and Jacob crouched beside his daughter. Sam took out her field glasses, and scanned the area of the temple. The main door looked to be open, but it was dark inside, and Sam could not see anything past the threshold. She handed the glasses to Jacob.  
"See anything?" She whispered.

"Not a damn thing," he replied. "It's too dark. We'd need to get inside to have any idea."

Sam nodded, and slipped over to Major Hamilton. "We're going in," she told him. "I want you to secure this area; signal if anyone approaches, but don't give away your position unless you have to. If the door closes, or if we haven't checked in after fifteen minutes, get back, and signal Anat for a pickup."

"What then?"

"Then you'll be in charge," Sam told him, brightly. "Just don't try coming in the same way." She gave another signal, and Jacob closed in behind her. She patted Hamilton on the arm, encouragingly, then she and Jacob made their way to the edge of the trees.

"If they see us coming…" Jacob began.

"Let's make sure they don't," Sam replied. The trees came close enough to the base that it would have been impossible for her to see anyone watching at one of the Ha'tak's windows, but by the same token there would only be a very slim chance of them being spotted between leaving the treeline and passing under the shadow of the ship, especially with only the glow of the setting moon to reveal them. "Go!" She whispered, urgently, and she and Jacob sprinted across the open ground to the nearest obelisk.

Pausing only briefly, they hurried forward to the temple door. Sam pulled on a pair of night vision goggles, and switched them on. The passage beyond the door was dark, but enough moonlight filtered in for the goggles to work. She led in, cautiously, Jacob following.

"Can you see okay?" She whispered back, remembering that her father was not carrying the same Air Force equipment that she was.

"Well enough," came the reply, in Selmak's sonorous tones. "My vision is better adapted to this light than Jacob's or yours."

As they passed through a large hall into a long passageway, Sam saw a gaping hole in the roof, which had once housed the transport ring system.

"I guess they salvaged the rings for their naquadah content," Sam surmised. "Which is weird considering SG-2's surveys showed there's a naquadah source somewhere on this planet."

"The Hades Mines," Selmak replied. "In the Devil's Mountains, on the Spartian continent. The naquadah deposits rest alongside a rich seam of Uranium-bearing lignites. There is a high level of what you call U-235 in that seam; almost enough to create a critical reaction in places. The radiation is at a lethal level, and there is a high risk of triggering a fairly nasty reaction where that much Uranium is near that much naquada. Even with the Goa'uld attitude to slave welfare, the cost to run the mines was far greater than the worth of the naquadah that could be recovered."

"A 'fairly nasty reaction'?" Sam asked. "Kind of vague for a Tok'ra. That sounds like Dad talking, Selmak."

"I am picking up bad habits," Selmak admitted. "Careless blasting, or even drilling, can trigger an explosion equivalent to anything up to your planet's early atomic weapons."

"Okay. That's fairly nasty."

"They did not name them the Hades Mines on a whim," Selmak assured her.

"So why didn't you tell our people that before we started sending my friends into danger?"

"You didn't ask," Selmak replied, straightforwardly. "The SGC does not always inform the Tok'ra Council of its every move; we did not know that you were attempting to negotiate access to the Hades Mines."

"Damnit!" Sam hissed, softly. The passage they were in had halted abruptly, where a colossal mass of rock had fallen across it. "No way in down here." She pulled out her radio. "Hamilton. This is Carter; do you copy?"

"Roger that, Major." Hamilton's voice was barely a whisper. "We've got three or four people approaching on foot."

"Stay low," Sam ordered. "We're coming back out. Be with you in five."

Sam and Jacob hurried back to the door and peered cautiously out. She could just make out the silhouettes of two of the SG-14 soldiers, and a small group of other figures moving with what they doubtless considered stealth through the edge of the forest. Together they made the short dash from door to obelisk to tree line, and dropped down alongside Hamilton. Through the trees they could make out voices, raised louder than was prudent, but hushed enough to indicate that whoever these people were, they were not supposed to be here.

"…dangerous to come." The first voice belonged to a man.

"We have to try and find away in," a woman protested. From her voice she was American, which was unexpected. "We can't just leave them."

"You mean you can't just leave them," the man retorted.

"Theos!" Another woman spoke sharply, but softer than either of the others. "You agreed to help, so stop complaining. Besides, you know these people can help us."

Sam signalled to her team, and SG-14 slid forward to flank the newcomers as they approached the door.

"I don't like the idea of relying on outsiders," Theos objected. "If we can't win our own freedom, what are the chances of keeping it? What if we end up swapping one tyrant for another?"

Sam smiled in spite of herself. She could almost hear Daniel - ever the cynic regarding US foreign policy - making some wry reply that would do nothing to allay the man's fears.

"We don't have much choice," the second woman told him, and it was obviously an old argument.

"Can we please focus here?" The first woman asked. "We are less than a hundred yards from a Goa'uld mothership; I don't think this is the time for this…Gah!" She cried out as - at a signal from Sam - the six, armed figures rose out of the undergrowth. The man raised a weapon, a heavy sickle, and the other woman turned to confirm that their retreat had been blocked.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Theos said.

"No. It's okay," the American replied, stepping forward. Beside Sam, Jacob did the same. "Kel sha Jacob-Selmak," the woman said, with a small bow.

"Kel sha, Jacqueline Rede," Jacob replied, returning the gesture.

Rede stepped forward and hugged Jacob, tightly. "Oh God, am I ever glad to see you," she said.

"What happened?" Jacob asked. "Where are SG-1?"

_*_

Once everyone was safely aboard the Hope, Jacqueline Rede - or Jack, as Jacob called her, to Sam's considerable confusion - gave a brief account of what had happened to SG-1 after their arrival on Arcadia. Sam had never had much occasion to work with any of the SGC's diplomatic staff, and so she did not know Rede at all. In fact, about the only things she knew about the woman were that she was about the same age as Sam herself, and that she was sitting way too close to Jacob for Sam's liking.

"How come you panicked in the tunnels?" Sam asked.

"Claustrophobia," Rede replied. "Diagnosed, clinical; I have to take the stairs twenty eight levels down into Cheyenne Mountain - and back up again - because the lifts are too small."

"Ouch," Sam said, sympathetically. "So you couldn't take us in through those tunnels?"

"No. But mostly because I got lost. They're as open as the corridors in SGC, and I was just about holding it together until I lost the torches. I might have done better still, but I left my Prozac in the diplomatic quarters at the Council Hall."

"Getting in through the tunnels would be difficult," Theos told Sam. "I know the caves pretty well, but once you get into the artificial passage up to the Palace entrance, the place is lined with tacluchnatagamuntorons."

"I still don't know how anyone manages to say that in one breath," Sam admitted.

"The Heptarch and the Pythoness have devices which deactivate them," Damia added. "But I don't know how they work. The system was designed in Helios' time, to allow his foremost servants to visit him with news without getting shot."

"Even then though," Theos continued. "The approach is a straight corridor for at least fifty feet, and well lit. If you get near, you will be seen and fired on by the guards."

"Would they fire if we were with the Council?" Rede asked.

"No," Theos replied. "But how would we persuade the Council to go up there with us?"

"What we need to do is talk to them," Rede said. "We'd need to get past the Spartii, but if we had someone they'd trust…say a representative of the Tok'ra Council?" She looked at Jacob.

"It might work," he allowed.

"And when we get inside?" Sam asked.

"That's more your department," Rede admitted.

"Can we get to talk to the Council?" Jacob asked.

"Unlikely," Damia said. "They hardly see anyone without Circe's say-so."

"What about the Pythoness?" Rede asked. "Could we talk to her?"

"Perhaps," Theos answered. "We could sneak into the temple disguised as pilgrims easily enough. But she can't take us into the tunnels; she isn't even allowed out of the temple except for Council meetings; 'for her own protection'," he added, plainly not believing a word of it.

"But she could get us into see the Council," Rede hazarded. "Which would at least give us a chance to put our case."

"And if we get arrested as well?" Jacob asked.

"Well, we have to do something," Rede protested, desperately. She plainly felt guilty that SG-1 had been captured while she had stumbled free.

"Do we even know if they're still alive?" Hamilton asked. "This might be a huge risk to no end at all."

Sam shot him a disgusted look. "The SGC is not in the habit of abandoning its personnel, Major," Sam told him, coldly.

"I'll not risk my team on a whim…" Hamilton began.

"Enough!" Sam barked, and for a moment she was transformed, the rational scientist fading away behind the officer and soldier, becoming the very incarnation of her father in his command days. "I'm open to reason, Major Hamilton," she told him, her voice tight with restrained fury. "But this is not a debate, and I'll not have you answering back. If you feel unable to follow orders, then you can spend the rest of the mission in the brig." Hamilton glared at her, but failed to stare her down.

"Your team," she reminded him, her tone softening a fraction. "Are my team now. I'm responsible for them, and I will by God bring them all back if I can. But we will bring back SG-1 as well, or we will bring back their bodies. Rest assured I would do this for any soldier in the SGC; even you, Major." She sat back, still shaking with rage. Hamilton was silent; stunned.

"They're alive," Anat said, with firm certainty. "Astarte is hard to predict, for a Goa'uld, but in some respects she is as constant as the Northern Star. I promise you Major; she won't _let_ them die. Not until she's finished playing with them."

"Playing…?"

"Torturing," Anat clarified. "Slowly. Expertly." She caught Hamilton's eye and held it. "Astarte has had millennia to perfect her art. She can break a person - any person - with the crudest of tools, in less than a day. She can wring so many screams from a man that his throat bleeds, and still be able to draw one more cry, and she _enjoys every moment of it_. Do you _still_ want to leave them in there, Major? Do you even want to take the chance." Hamilton flinched, and looked away. "I didn't think so." Anat sat back in her seat, perfectly relaxed, as though she had merely been discussing the weather. Rede shuddered, and Jacob gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Theos?" Rede asked, gathering her composure. "Could the Pythoness get us in to see the Council?"

"Yes," the youth replied, reluctantly. "But if we are then arrested, things could go badly for her."

"Will she do it?" Rede asked. Theos looked doubtful.

"Yes," Damia replied, with certainty. "No question of it."

"Didn't she already turn you over to Astarte once?" Sam asked.

"She wasn't in on that" Rede assured her. "She was as surprised by what happened as we were; I'd stake my life on it."

"You just did," Hamilton pointed out.

 

Jacob found Sam, sitting in a quiet corner of the Hope, looking pensive.

"Something on your mind?" He asked.

"I used to be bothered about breaking or sneaking into temples," Sam replied. "Partly it was being around Daniel; he was always very serious about the beliefs of other cultures. Somewhere along the line though…I think I've even lost count of how many times we've done it." She turned to look at her father. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You've never violated holy ground for a bad reason, have you?"

"I suppose not," Sam replied, with a slight smile. "I only commit sacrilege if it's valid."

"Anything else bothering you?"

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing? I mean, maybe Hamilton's right. What right do I have to risk his team to save mine?"

Jacob sat down beside his daughter, and put an arm around her shoulders. "If SG-14 were trapped in that Palace, would SG-1 go in to get them?"

"Of course…"

"However bad the odds?"

"Yes."

"Well then? How can you ask if it's right to take SG-14 to do as much for SG-1?"

Sam nodded, slowly. "I guess you're right. It's just…"

"It's just that this is your first command, and you're worried that you're risking your troops for personal reasons," Jacob guessed. Sam nodded. "Sam; I'd worry if you didn't. You care about the soldiers under your command; that's what makes you a good officer. But you also know that you don't always get a good choice."

"Thanks, Dad," Sam said, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Man it's tough being the CO."

"Again, I'd worry if you thought otherwise." He squeezed her shoulder tightly, then stood. "Were almost there," he told her. "Time to break into the temple."

"Again." Sam smiled as she stood. "So anyway, Dad. How do you know Rede?"

"Jack? We've worked together - and opposite each other - on a few diplomatic assignments."

"You like her?"

"She's good at her job, if that's what you mean?"

"It's not," Sam replied. "Dad…Is there anything…?"

Jacob assayed to appear scandalised. "Sam!"

"I'm just asking. I mean, you guys look kind of close, and she's young enough to be your…well; to be me."

Jacob took Sam by the shoulder, and steered her back towards the main bay. "Jack and I are colleagues, and good friends. That's all." He grinned at her. "I can't believe _you_ have problems with that concept."

Sam grimaced, and let the subject drop.

*

After Astarte left, Jack tried pacing up and down, but found that the chain was too short to allow more than a few steps either way and gave up. He looked worse than Daniel had ever seen him; not physically, but mentally. He was twitchy, irritable and hovering on the edge of depression. Not since the Abydos mission, soon after the death of his son, had Daniel seen him so low. He got the feeling that there was more to Jack's disquiet than Amy's death, and he had a feeling he knew what it was, but now did not seem the time to bring it up. Since he could not think of anything else to say, they sat in uncomfortable silence until Astarte returned.

"Jack; Daniel," Astarte greeted them, pleasantly.

"Bitch," Jack muttered.

Astarte tutted, softly. "I said I had something to cheer you up," she reminded him. "Come in, my dear." Daniel supposed he should have expected it, but it was _always_ a shock to see the dead walk; however often it happened. Jack was simply dumbstruck, but Daniel managed to maintain his composure.

"Hello, Amy," he managed.

"Hi, Daniel," she replied, sheepishly. "Sorry I couldn't hold out a little longer."

"Um…That's okay," Daniel replied, barely crediting that someone was apologising to him for getting a sword run through her own gut.

"Amy?" Jack finally managed, astonished.

"Yes, Colonel. Rumours of my…"

"Not the Twain," Daniel begged her. "Please. It's been done to death." Amy smiled, thinly. "Or from death," he added, uncertainly.

"Guess you've all kind of been here before."

"Many times. But you never take it for granted," he assured her. "I'm glad you're okay."

"As I told you, Jack," Astarte said. "I am not a monster, and I never waste anything I have a use for."

"A use?" Jack was immediately on his guard again. "What use?"

"Don't be ingenuous, Jack; it doesn't become you. You know what I would use Amy for."

"A host," Jack replied, through clenched teeth. "For another of your 'children'."

Astarte laughed. "Oh no, Jack. Not this one. She walked slowly around Amy, examining her critically. "This one, I want to keep for myself."

"What?" Jack was incredulous.

"Not immediately, of course. This host still has some life in her yet. But eventually all hosts fail; a sarcophagus malfunctions, or an injury is just too severe, or the flesh simply gives out. Finally, you are left with a crippled and dying host, and must seek a new body to inhabit. This is made far simpler when you have one already prepared."

"Deal seems to be that I serve her until she needs me, then she hops inside and goes on in my skin," Amy explained, without enthusiasm. "In return I get to live in clover for however long that takes."

"No!" Jack declared.

"Not your decision," Astarte told him.

"You said if I came over to you, you'd let them go," Jack reminded her.

"I said you could let Daniel and the Jaffa go," she replied. "Well, the Jaffa is gone and I have decided that I want to keep Dr Jackson as well." Daniel did not like the sound of that. "Regarding the girl, I made no promises, although I will promise now that I shall not kill her out of hand." Astarte smiled; a warm, affectionate expression that sent shivers down Daniel's spine. "Besides; you declined that offer. Now I have a new one for you."

*

The temple was a small, almost quaint affair, built at the base of Mount Ophesta. The mountain was quite small, as mountains went, and the lower slopes at least were covered in green pastures, where sheep grazed under the half-watchful eyes of white-clad herdsfolk. Most of these worthy folk seemed to be sleeping, although one or two young couples plainly had other things on their minds.

"Oh look. The frolicking shepherdesses," Rede commented.

"Huh?" Sam asked.

"Just something Dr Jackson mentioned."

The temple itself was a rectangular stone building, with a low, sloped, timber roof, and it looked very old. Alongside it was a much newer, wooden round house, with a flapping banner on a staff outside the entrance. The banner showed a black dragon's head on a red field.

"Spartii," Theos said, with distaste. "They have a barracks here to make certain the Pythoness does not give them the slip."

As they approached the temple door - a cavernous opening, framed by heavy stones - Rede cast her eyes up to the lintel, where there was an inscription. " _Terribilis est locus iste_ ," she read.

"This place is terrible," Anat translated.

"Well, that's cheery," Hamilton remarked, gloomily.

"You're a real ray of sunshine," Rede told him. He scowled at her.

"Please," Theos said. "Be quiet. We don't want the guards to hear that you are not Thebans." Sam, Jacob, Anat, Rede and Hamilton nodded their assent, and pulled the hoods of their brown woollen robes lower over their faces. Two Spartii Hoplites, clad in lacquered bronze armour and carrying Goa'uld hunting goads, stood watch at the door.

"Who asks entrance to the Temple of Helios," asked one of the guards, sounding immensely bored.

"Humble pilgrims," Theos replied. "Come to make offerings to the god, and to seek the wisdom of the Temple."

"Humble, eh?" The guard asked.

"Means the same as poor," the other replied. "You can't go in; Temple's busy. Try again tomorrow."

"Please, good sirs," Damia implored, stepping forward with her hands clasped in supplication. "We've come a long way; we are tired and footsore. Can't you find it in your hearts to let us in?"

The first guard pushed back Damia's hood, and the two Spartii nodded at each other, approvingly. "We might be persuaded," he told her, planting a possessive hand on her shoulder and pulling her close to him. "What have you to offer in return." He leered, unpleasantly, while his comrade tried to catch a glimpse under the other hoods. Sam tensed, ready for a fight.

"Oh, sirs," Damia replied, sounding shocked, but not unpleasantly so. "You know we must remain pure during the course of our pilgrimage. Although…" She looked bashfully at the ground, and stroked a finger across the guard's breastplate. "Perhaps…after?"

The guards leered even more. "Alright; in you go. Just be sure not to forget to come see us afterwards."

The seven of them filed silently into the temple, and almost immediately Sam saw that it was far larger than it looked. The entirety of the modest structure they had entered was a long, colonnaded atrium, lit by flickering torchlight, at the end of which a cave mouth gaped, lit red from within by the light of yet more torches. The sides of the room were lined with wooden benches, presumably for waiting pilgrims. The benches were all empty.

"Well this is great," Hamilton muttered, eyeing the cave with concern.

"If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything," Sam told him, sternly.

"Come on," Rede told him, encouragingly. "If I can manage it, so can you."

"The temple is in a natural cave structure; a pool, deep within the mountain," Theos explained. He looked about at the empty chamber. "Busy indeed. They're just fishing for bribes, the bastards."

"Payment to visit the temple," Damia agreed. "It's obscene." She made a disgusted face. "Ugh. I'm not going to feel clean for a week."

"I take it this pace hasn't done much trade since Helios got the boot?" Sam asked.

"Not much," Theos agreed. "With the Hoplites hanging around outside, harassing the few who do still seek wisdom here, and so many people turning against the priestesses…"

The two Thebans led the offworlders into the cave. The air inside was cool and moist, but a fresh breeze swept through from above. Past the mouth, a long, high passage led down between barriers of stalactites and stalagmites. In a few places, the walls closed in, and they were able to see rough paintings of snakes and humans on the walls. The paintings were worn and indistinct.

"You okay, Jack," Jacob asked.

"I'm coping," Rede replied. Jacob reached down and gave her hand a supportive squeeze. "Think I'll be alright as long as we keep moving."

"How long has the temple been here?" Sam asked.

"A very long time," Damia replied. "Some say since before Helios ruled this planet. Zoë believes that it was not originally dedicated to any of the Titans, but to some other, older gods."

"I'm not so sure of that," Jacob said, gesturing towards one of the paintings, which showed a woman, seated on a throne, with a snakelike being coiled around her neck.

"That is the Pythoness," Theos explained. "The serpent represents her God speaking through her."

Sam and Jacob exchanged a meaningful look. "More Goa'uld?" Sam asked.

"I don't think _more_ ," Anat told her. "Come and see this, Sam." Sam walked over and examined the painting which Anat had found. Again, it showed a woman with a snake about her neck, this time holding in her hand a great axe. The axe was crude, the drawing cruder, but Sam recognise the basic form of the weapon immediately. 

 _I ought to_ , she thought to herself. _I was killed with it._

"Astarte," she whispered. "That must be why she came here; she was the original Lord of this planet."

"Strange that the Goa'uld is depicted in the images," Anat mused.

"Daniel's gotta see this," Sam remarked, as her father joined them.

"Guys?" Rede called, nervously. They looked up, snapped out of their distraction. The diplomat was bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet, obviously keen to keep moving. "If we want to ever bring Dr Jackson down here, we should get on."

"Of course," Sam replied, embarrassed. She had never before realised quite how much Daniel's interests had affected her. The same was true of her other team-mates, she realised. She had even caught herself on the way here spying out what looked to be good fishing sites.

"This place is very empty," Hamilton remarked. "You sure anyone's home?"

"The shrine is always tended," Theos assured them. "But the upper levels are usually quiet these days. There would be more attendants if there were more pilgrims."

Theos and Damia led their allies deeper into the caves, and after a while they began to see figures moving in the torchlight shadows off the main path. The caves opened out - to Rede's obvious relief - and as their eyes adjusted they began to see workshops and small buildings among the limestone deposits; some wooden, some carved from the rock. The people who moved about were clad in simple robes, very similar to the pilgrim garb that they were wearing.

"These are the living quarters of the servants and initiates," Theos explained. "The priestesses themselves live further up, and the shrine is in a grotto at the end of the main cavern."

"They live underground?" Sam asked.

"They sleep and work here," Theos said. "But they do not hide from the sun."

Further on, they saw the priestesses, clad in finer robes, with high hoods. Each wore the symbol of the sun - the symbol of Helios - on their breast. They watched the strangers pass without comment. Something was nagging at Sam, but it was only when they reached the low entrance to the grotto that she realised what it was. At the apex of the arch - which was at about Sam's eye level - was the carved symbol of a sinuous serpent.

"The priestesses wear the symbol of Helios; but I don't see it anywhere else in here. Just this serpent."

"Helios never came in here," Theos told them. "Zoë claims that he feared this place. It was sometimes a refuge for those fleeing Helios' anger."

"Did he put the carving over the temple door? The terrible place one?"

"I don't know."

All of them had to duck to enter the grotto, although the roof within was high enough that Jack could have stood comfortably, and Rede plainly had no great anxiety being in here. Sam wondered if the entrance had been left as low as it was from a sense of piety, or so that supplicants would have to bow on their way in.

The grotto was warmer than the main cavern, heated by the pool which sat steaming in the centre of the small chamber. A kind of glow suffused the chamber, and that too rose from the pool, along with a thin cloud of steam and a pungent, spicy odour.

"Who enters the presence of the Pythoness?" A woman's voice intoned the question.

"Theos, son of Aristophanes," Theos replied.

"Theos?" The speaker stepped from the shadows on the far side of the pool. She was a young woman, as Sam had known, but even younger than she had imagined; barely more than a girl. Her dark hair was bound into a thick, snake-like plait and coiled about her neck and shoulders, and she wore a white gown. She stepped forward, then stopped, anxious. "You should not have come here, Theos."

"I had to," Theos replied. "These people must speak with you."

"I can not help them," the Pythoness replied, bitterly. "I have no power now, Theos. I am a puppet and a hostage. Nor can I offer shelter; the Spartii may not enter, but Circe and her Griffins have no fear of this place."

"Griffins?" Sam whispered to Damia.

"Circe's elite guards," the young woman replied. "The wear helmets in the shape of a hawk's head."

"Horus guards," Sam said.

"At least hear them out," Theos asked Zoë.

"Very well," Zoë agreed, reluctantly. "But I warn them not to expect much." She sat at the side of the pool, her bare feet in the water, and gestured for them to come closer. "Did you wish a formal interview with the Pythoness?" She asked Rede, who approached first.

"Informal will suffice, thank you," Rede replied, pushing back her hood.

The Pythoness' eyes widened in alarm. "You! But you were taken to the Palace."

"I was misplaced," Rede told her.

"I should have you taken back," the girl said, although with little conviction. "Circe will be angry if we harbour you here."

"We need your help, Your Grace," Rede told her. "Our friends are held captive, and we can not enter the Palace without your aid."

The Pythoness shook her head. "I can't help you," she said, firmly. "I would if I could, but if I even try then Circe and Aristeias will use my 'treason' to strip me of the last of my power, and I will be unable to even influence the Council." She looked down at the pool, sadly. "I must try to look after my people. You understand?"

"We can help you to rid your people of Circe, and Aristeias," Rede told her. "We have done it elsewhere; it's why you asked us here in the first place. To defend your world from the Titans."

"Helios is gone," Zoë protested. "Dead and buried."

"But Circe is also a Titan," Sam spoke up from behind Rede.

"And who are you?" The Pythoness asked.

"Your Grace…" Rede began.

"Zoë," the girl corrected. "Just call me Zoë."

"Zoë. This is Major Carter of the SGC, and Jacob-Selmak of the Tok'ra." Sam and Jacob dutifully removed their hoods.

"The Tok'ra," Zoë said, thoughtfully. "I have heard of you."

"We have dealings with the Spartii," Jacob confirmed.

"Not from the Spartii. From Helios. He spoke of you sometimes to my mentor, Clio; always with hate and fear. Would the Tok'ra offer us protection from the Titans?"

"We are not powerful enough to offer protection from them," Jacob answered. "Nor are the SGC. All we can offer is our aid and support, if you need it."

Zoë nodded. "I don't trust people who offer their protection," she told them. "Circe is our 'protector', and she has focused all of our hope for survival on herself. The Hoplites and the Griffins are here to fight our battles, and she will not let the people defend themselves. I have no wish to trade you for her."

"I have no wish to be in her place," Jacob assured her.

"Helios said that the Tok'ra were brothers to the Titans," Zoë said. "You know what this place is?"

"It's like a Goa'uld spawning pool," he replied.

Zoë nodded. "The Pythoness is privy to certain secret lore. It is said in this lore, that once our world was ruled by a great serpent-queen, Ophesta, who came from the stars and dwelt in this pool. At times, she would speak to her people through her oracle, the Pythoness. She guided and protected us, but then she went away again, into the stars, leaving us free to govern ourselves. The people looked to Ophesta's priestesses for leadership, and this angered the warlords who led the Theban armies. Led by the Heptarch, the Pythoness' consort, they called down the Titans to be the lords of this land, and the priestesses were obliged to bow before them, and call them Gods.

"The Titans stripped us of our arms, brought their own armies and took our people as servants and warriors. They left us without the means to defend ourselves, so that we would rely on them. The balance of power in the ancient Council shifted, so that the Heptarch ruled, and the Pythoness merely advised. For thousands of years they ruled, but the Pythonesses passed from one to another the prophecy that one day Ophesta would return to free us, and we kept this shrine secure against the Titans for all that time."

"And what does that have to do with the price of fish?" Sam asked, impatiently.

"No Titan ever dared enter this place. Even Cronus, Helios' master, feared to come here. But on the day that she arrived, Circe came here, and spoke with Clio, and Clio told me that Ophesta had returned."

"So Astarte did once rule here," Anat said.

"Yes," Zoë replied. "But I do not believe that she has returned to make us free. I hoped, and I promised Clio that I would aid Circe in restoring our people, but she found Aristeias to be a more useful pawn than Clio, and so she has supported the Heptarch, refused to take back the name Ophesta, and left her own priesthood to rot. She calls on our people to supply her with goods and warriors, building an army, but not for the sake of Thebes. She has become as the Titans were. Since I saw what she was doing, I have wondered how our people can be free of her."

"Will you help us then?" Rede asked.

"Tell me about the attacks on my people by your soldiers."

"They were not made by these people," Theos told her. "It was a trick, to turn us against them."

Zoë looked at Theos, and nodded once more, then turned back to Sam and the others. "What would you do for my people in return?"

"We'll get rid of Circe," Sam promised. "We'll teach you to maintain your generators, and we will help you to defend your world, if you ask it."

Zoë stood, and walked around the edge of the pool to stand in front of Sam and Jacob. She moved wearily, like a woman bearing a great burden. She looked up into their faces, regarding them with a kind of calm desperation.

"I was entrusted with the hope of my people," she said. "After it had already become a lie. You'll understand if I don't trust easily. How can I know you will not betray us?"

"All I can give you is my word," Sam told her.

"And what is that worth?" Zoë asked, looking Sam straight in the eye.

"I've never broken it yet," she replied.

After a long, long pause, Zoë nodded, casting her eyes downward. "All of my options seem bad," she said. "But this least so. If Theos and Damia bring you here, they must have reason to trust you, and I think you are honest." There was fear in her voice; the fear that she was doing the wrong thing for her people.

Then Zoë looked up, with fresh determination. "I will take you to the Council."

_*_

As they emerged from the temple, Sam and Jacob blasted the two Hoplites with their zat'nik'tels, and the soldiers fell to the ground. Damia stepped over and drove her sandalled foot into the groin of the one who had touched her.

"Ouch," Hamilton winced.

"It's fair," Sam accepted.

Rede drew Damia aside, and spoke softly to her. The young Theban nodding her understanding several times. Then she hugged her brother and the Pythoness.

"Good luck," she said.

"You're not coming?" Theos asked, confused.

"We might need a big gun for these negotiations - metaphorically speaking, I mean," Rede told them. "We need to go straight to the Council before those two are missed, but Echthonus can get Damia into the Hall at any time."

"What big gun?" Zoë inquired, suspiciously.

"I don't want to say," Rede demurred. "You'd all disapprove. Just trust me; this will work, and it is perfectly safe."

Theos and Zoë looked sceptical, and Sam could not blame them, but Damia cut off any further complaint by bidding them all farewell and heading back the way they had come.

"Damia! Wait!" Theos called.

"No time! I'll see you in the city!"

Sam frowned, not entirely happy with the situation, but not seeing many alternatives. "Which way now?" She asked.

"Around the mountain," Zoë told her, distractedly. She took her eyes from the retreating figure and gather her concentration. "Past the next spur are the garages. If we avoid the guards we can take a car from there. My sisters will take care of these, and once we reach the city, the Spartii will not stop me entering the Council Halls."

"Then what?"

"After that, it is up to you."

*

Astarte had taken Amy away to 'rest', leaving Jack and Daniel to wrestle uselessly with their restraints. When she returned, they both sat down, trying to look as though they had not been doing anything much. "You know she'll never serve you?" Jack told Astarte, as soon as she entered.

"You are so naïve Jack," Astarte told him. "I can be very persuasive when I really want something. And I have so much time."

"You're going to use the sarcophagus to preserve her," Daniel accused. "You'll let it erode her morality until she accepts your offer of extended life."

Astarte walked over to Daniel. "You have a devious mind, Dr Jackson. I am impressed." She stroked a hand gently through Daniel's hair.

"That's a pretty cheap trick," Daniel opined. "I thought you didn't rely on artificial aids?"

"Oh; you're not right. I am just impressed that you thought of it. No, you and the girl will both serve me willingly, in time." With a sudden motion, she caught Daniel's ear in a painful grip. "Long before I have to put either of you in a sarcophagus, you'll beg me to let you serve."

"Let them go," Jack interrupted.

"No, Jack," Astarte scolded, moving away from Daniel, who rubbed his ear, painfully. "I told you that I had decided to keep them both, and I meant it. The option to buy their freedom is no longer open."

"What do you want Daniel for?" Jack demanded.

"Oh, thanks," Daniel muttered.

Astarte smiled. "I can always make use of another pair of hands," she said. "But a brain is infinitely more useful, especially one so full of knowledge as Dr Jackson's."

"Now why can't I find a girl this interested in my mind on Earth?" Daniel asked.

"In Daniel's case however, it is not his brain I am interested in either, but his tongue."

"What!" Daniel demanded.

"What!" Jack echoed.

"Jealous?" Astarte asked Jack. He refused to meet her eyes. "How many things you Tau'ri find to see as offensive. Is there anything of his I could express interest in without you thinking I desired him?"

"My thyroid?" Daniel suggested.

"So what?" Jack asked. "You want him to be your court jester?"

"My fool, yes," Astarte replied.

"Wouldn't I be better qualified?"

"I have other plans for you, as you well know."

"You want me to be your fool?" Daniel asked. "In the original sense of the word?"

"No. The original sense is an Unas term meaning 'leaf pulp'. But I think you understand me, yes?"

"You want me to tell the truth?"

"Precisely. It is a rare and valuable trait." Astarte turned to Jack once more. "Now, Jack; this is my new offer. Come over to me, accept my consort into your body, and they shall suffer no more than is needed to convince them of their new calling as my servants. Refuse, and their pain shall last until you change your mind."

*

True to Zoë's predictions, the Spartii outside the Council Hall made no attempt to prevent either her or her 'guests' entering the Hall. They moved through the busy private halls, instead of the great processional avenue through which Rede and SG-1 had passed last time, and bureaucrats bustled busily around them. Zoë snared one of these faceless figures and sent him to bring the Archons to the main hall. She led her companions to her offices, a quiet suite which had plainly not seen much use in recent months, where they waited for around fifteen minutes, giving the magistrates time to assemble.

"We need to have at least four of them there when we go in. If the Council is not a quorum, Aristeias might just have us all arrested," Zoë explained.

When Zoë thought that enough time had passed, they left the offices again, and she sent another bureaucrat - or maybe it was the same one - to summon Aristeias. The man looked doubtful about bringing a summons to the Heptarch, but Zoë fixed him with a stare so fierce that it made him blanche, and with profuse apologies he scurried on his way. Sam caught a look of wonder on Theos' face, and guessed that it was a long time since the Pythoness had dared to show her teeth. This was all or nothing, Sam realised, and not just for Zoë. For all of them.

 

Of the seven Magistrates who ruled the seven tax districts of Thebes, Rede had met only one. Archon Palmys was a big man; big in a powerful way, but bulky, as though a little of his muscle had run to fat. He was an honest man with a dislike for politics, and Rede was fairly certain he would be sympathetic. The rest were career politicians, and would likely follow the Heptarch if he called on his Hoplites. The guards were out in force again, which did not bode well for the proceedings.

All eyes turned to the door as Aristeias, the Heptarch, entered, a bear of a man with a commanding presence, easily three times Zoë's age. He seemed angry to have been summoned by his wife, and flustered to find the Council already assembled, and he immediately attempted to draw Zoë aside, grabbing her roughly by the arm. He ignored the robed strangers completely.

"What are you playing at, woman?" He demanded.

Zoë shrugged off his grip, fighting down revulsion at his touch. He might be her husband, but not by her choice. "It's my right to call a Council Meeting, Aristeias," she said, addressing the room. "I'm just exercising that right."

"We agreed that it was best the priesthood take no further…" Aristeias was still trying to take Zoë aside, and still speaking sotto voce.

"We agreed nothing," she replied, firmly. "Circe commanded, you pronounced, and I obeyed, but you never took away my right, and I am exercising it now."

"That mistake can be remedied."

"I'm sure." Zoë turned to face the magistrates. "Archons. I called this meeting for you to hear these people speak. After that, you may decide what to do about them. And about me." She swept away from the Heptarch, and settled with prim dignity onto her throne. After a moment's hesitation, Aristeias followed.

"You may speak," he told the strangers, grudgingly, as though granting them a favour. "But make it quick."

Jacob stepped forward, and pushed back his hood. His eyes burned as Selmak rose up to speak.

"Titan." The whisper rose for the magistrates, but the Spartii murmured: "Tok'ra."

"I am Selmak, of the Tok'ra; enemy of the Goa'uld, including those whom you call Titans. I have come to speak to you on behalf of those of the Tau'ri whom you have imprisoned: Colonel Jack O'Neill, Dr Daniel Jackson, Teal'c and Lieutenant Amy Kawalsky."

"You are a little late, Tok'ra," Aristeias interrupted. Selmak looked nonplussed.

"Lieutenant Kawalsky is dead," Archon Palmys told them. "She fought with Circe and was defeated. She fought well," he added, with grave admiration. Sam could feel Hamilton's gaze on her and on Anat, as her heart rolled in her chest, fearing for her friends.

"Then the Goa'uld known as Circe has committed a great wrong," Selmak told them. There was a pause as he waited for this to sink in, then six of the magistrates rose in uproar; Palmys merely sat, nodding slowly to himself.

"How dare you…?" Aristeias began.

"It is the truth," Zoë told them. "Circe is the Serpent Queen, Ophesta, but she has turned from us, and seeks conquest. This she told to Clio, and Clio told to me."

Selmak stood silent while the magistrates argued and ranted. Many seemed to be demanding the removal of the Pythoness, but they were divided whether she should be punished for slandering the liberator, or for concealing her true nature from the Council.

"These are lies!" Aristeias roared. "Cooked up by the Titans to restore their power. Clearly these 'Tok'ra' are allies of the treacherous SGC, and the Pythoness is in their pay." Zoë snorted derisively. "I have heard enough from these liars." He raised his hand to signal the guards.

"Wait." Palmys said, gently. "They have a right to be heard, unless all the Council votes for their removal. I want to hear them out." The Heptarch glared at the big Archon, who gazed back, levelly.

"Speak on," the Heptarch growled, reluctantly.

"The raids by 'SGC personnel', were in fact undertaken by Circe's warriors, disguised." Selmak continued, and as soon as it was said, Rede knew that Theos was right. Aristeias face left no doubt that he knew that the SGC were innocent.

"That's a very serious accusation," the Heptarch remarked. "How convenient that there are no witnesses to support it."

"Convenient for you!" Theos declared. "There were witnesses who came to you! What became of them?"  
"Theos," Aristeias growled. "I'm sure I don't need to ask if you have proof. We all know your reasons for opposing me." For a moment it looked as though Theos might actually go for Aristeias there and then, but Sam put a hand on the young man's arm to restrain him. "Perhaps, Selmak of the Tok'ra, your other companions should be known to us."

Selmak looked to Zoë, who nodded once. "Very well," he said, and his companions lowered their hoods.  
"You!" All eyes fixed on Rede, and the Heptarch pointed accusingly. "The escaped prisoner. Guards." Three Spartii started forwards.

"Let them speak," Palmys commanded. "They are going nowhere." The Hoplites paused, plainly holding Palmys in high regard.

"Very well." The Heptarch was becoming increasingly agitated.

"Your Lordship," Rede said. "Archons. We hold that the SGC has been wronged, and that the architect of this wrong is the one known as Circe. Therefore we ask that the Council grant redress, and permit us to confront Circe."  
"Where is your evidence?" One of the magistrates demanded.

Sam stepped up behind Rede. "Where is our evidence?" She asked.

"It's coming," Rede promised her, nervously.

"Well?" The Heptarch asked. Rede glanced anxiously at the door. "It seems, Archon Palmys, that we have heard all there is to hear. Guar…"

The main door to the Hall opened. Sam glanced back, and saw Damia entering, accompanied by one of the Spartii.

"Thank God for that," Rede whispered. "Your Lordship," she announced, turning back to her crowd. "Our witness has arrived."

"Her? Theos' sister? I do not think so."

"Not me," Damia replied. "Him." As she reached the front of the Hall, Ion stepped out from behind her, clinging nervously to her hand. "This is Ion. He was found in the ruins of one of the villages destroyed by the so-called SGC soldiers." Damia knelt beside the boy. "Ion. Tell these men what happened."

"The people came in the night. They killed and burned, and I was afraid so I hid. They didn't find me."

"What people?" Palmys asked, gently.

"The ones in green. Three men and a woman."

Rede motioned for Sam to doff her pilgrim's robes, revealing her field uniform underneath. "Were they dressed like this?" Ion nodded, and backed away from Sam, clinging to Damia's hand. The magistrates watched the child, fascinated, while the Heptarch looked uncomfortable.

"Ion," Palmys rose from his seat, and came to crouch before the boy. "Was this woman one of the ones you saw at your village?" Ion shook his head.

"Proving nothing. They must have more soldiers."

"But this one is Carter," Palmys pointed out.

"He also saw the others who were brought here today," Damia told the magistrate. "None of them were among those who attacked his village."

"It sounds to me as though the might be something in these claims," Palmys said. "In which case we should retrieve the remaining prisoners from the Palace at once."

"The attackers wore SGC uniforms," the Heptarch protested.

"Even if the SGC is your enemy, their soldiers can only be held as prisoners of war if they are known to have committed acts of aggression against Thebes in person," Rede said. "Otherwise, we should be accorded the means to return safely to our home. Isn't that Theban law?"

"That law is obsolete," one of the magistrates pronounced. "It dates back to the reign of Helios."

"So does the Council," Palmys reminded him. "And the role of the Heptarch."

"Perhaps this bears considering," another Archon allowed.

"A committee perhaps," suggested a third

"We have wronged them," said a fourth. "We must release their comrades before we continue, then perhaps…"

"Aristeias!" Zoë screamed. All eyes turned to the dais, where the Heptarch had caught the Pythoness in his powerful grasp, and was holding her before him as a shield. He held a zat'nik'tel in one hand, but concerned with pinning the struggling priestess, he was not aiming it at anyone.

"Zoë!" Theos cried, alarmed. A few of the guards raised their weapons, but seemed unsure who to fire at. The Hoplite standing with Damia stepped in front of her and the child, and pointed his goad decisively at the Heptarch.

"Traitors!" Aristeias spat. "All of you, traitors and Titan-lovers. Guards, seize them all!" The Spartii looked confused, caught between their commander and their obvious respect for Archon Palmys and the Tok'ra.

"Put the weapon down, Aristeias," Palmys ordered. "I think you owe the Council an explanation, and I'm placing you in custody."

"How dare you presume…"

"You're threatening the Pythoness," Rede reminded him. "That's a pretty serious offence, even for the Heptarch."

"Let her go!" Theos demanded, his voice deadly. Aristeias plainly caught the tone, because his face turned pale with fear. Sam eased her pistol loose in its holster as Theos inched forward.

Shooting fearful glances between the boy and Archon Palmys, Aristeias' cool finally cracked. With an incoherent cry of rage, he fired the zat into Theos. Zoë wriggled free of his weakened grasp, and struck him across the face with a cry of rage. Savagely, Aristeias thrust the girl away from him, sending her stumbling into Palmys. He fired again, and Sam was forced to duck to avoid the blast, then he was away into the shadows behind the throne dais. One of the guards went after the Heptarch, but was felled by a third zat blast, and a loud boom sounded from the darkness.

Sam ran over, and saw that the concealed passage was blocked by an immense slab of stone. "How do we open this?" She demanded.

"I don't know," Palmys admitted. "Your Grace…?" He turned to look for Zoë, who had crawled over to Theos' side.

"Theos," she whispered, stroking his hair. "Oh, Gods…"

"Zoë; are you alright?" Theos asked, groggily. Zoë threw her arms around him in a desperate embrace.

"I thought you were dead," she told him.

"I'm fine," he promised. "I don't know how, but I am."

"The Heptarch shot you with a zat'nik'tel," Sam told him. "The first shot doesn't kill; only the second."

"I don't think he knew that," Theos said. "He meant to kill me. I saw it in his eyes." He shook his head to dispel the memory. "But what about you, Zoë? Did he hurt you?"

The Pythoness stood, a little shakily. "I'm alright," she promised. "In fact I'm better than I've been in a long while. What more proof do you need of his crimes?" She asked the Archons.

"What should we do?" One asked.

"Go after him," Palmys said. "Bring him back for trial, and recover the prisoners. Selmak, Ms Rede; Major Carter. As the aggrieved party, you are welcome to join us."

"But we can't," one of the Archons protested. "He's the Heptarch still. Isn't he?" He looked around, and his fellows grudgingly conceded the point.

"The hell he is!" Rede snapped. "He attacked Zoë, in front of witnesses; I understand that's grounds for an immediate divorce even if the wife isn't also the Pythoness."

"You read up on divorce law before you came here?" Sam asked, disbelieving.

"I wanted to be thorough," she replied.

"Remind me to keep her away from Daniel," Sam whispered to her father. "God knows what would happen if those two were to breed."

"That's true," the Archon was saying, accepting Rede's argument. "But we still can't take action until there is a new Heptarch."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem," Palmys said, gesturing with his head to where Zoë was helping Theos to his feet. The two were clinging together like love-struck schoolchildren, which -Sam realised - was more or less what they were. They looked up when they realised that they had become the centre of attention, and blushed. "If we skip the formalities, I can have these two married in a matter of minutes. With your agreement of course," he told the couple in question, who fell over themselves to provide it.

"Thank you," Sam said to Palmys. She took out her field radio. "Carter, calling Hope. Bring down the rest of SG-14; we're going in. We've just got a little impromptu wedding breaking out and then we're good to go." She turned to Rede. "Well done, Jack. Thank you."

Rede blushed. "You're welcome, Major Carter."

"Hope, calling Carter," Jason's voice came over the radio. "Did you say wedding?"

"Long story, Jason," Sam replied.

"We're coming in now," the Jaffa told her. "But there's something you should know," he added. "We analysed those readings Anat took, and there's no mistake."

"Damnit," Anat cursed.

"What does he mean?" Selmak asked.

"He means we have to move fast," Anat told him. "Or Astarte could slip through our fingers."

"Zoë," Sam said, dragging the girl's attention away from her fiancé. "Do you have a key for that door?"

"No," Zoë replied, apologetically. Then she looked up, suddenly confident. "Echthonus, right?" She asked Damia's Hoplite. The young Spartii nodded. "Go back to your barracks, and bring me all the explosives you can find."

*

Astarte had left Jack and Daniel to their own devices for a time, and came to visit her intended handmaiden, Amy. The girl remained recalcitrant, but Astarte did not expect progress to be swift. Torture would almost certainly be required, and she wanted Jack present for that, so she took Amy's hostility with equanimity. It almost certainly did nothing for the woman's temper that her hands were manacled, and chained to the wall.

"Your reluctance is quite unaccountable," she told Amy. "Know that I speak the truth. It can not be long before you can no longer retain your body in such excellent condition."

"I'll get by," Amy replied. "And grow old gracefully. That's what you're supposed to do."

"Only because you have no choice. You are embracing your avoidable decay and dissolution, Amy."

"Pardon me if I doubt your intentions, since you're only interested in my health as an investment in your own future."

"You are afraid of me stealing your life," Astarte said. "It is understandable, but think of it. I am offering you five times the life you would have had - more if my host holds out - and _all_ of it with the body you have now. I'm not asking you to give up _anything_."

"Except my humanity."

"Humanity is overrated. A life such as I am offering has many other compensations. Don't worry; I don't expect you to see that yet. But you will…"

Astarte's head whipped around, furious, as the door to the room was thrown open with a crash. The Heptarch stumbled in, a Jaffa on his heels, reaching out to grab him. A wave from Astarte dispensed with the Jaffa, and she turned a savage gaze on Aristeias.

"What is the meaning of this?" She demanded.

"My Lady," the man gasped. "Soldiers from the SGC came, along with a Goa'uld named Selmak." Astarte hissed, angrily, at the sound of that name.

"And?"

"They are coming here. They persuaded the Council to aid them, and they know that you are a Goa'uld."

"Why didn't you stop them?" Astarte demanded.

"I couldn't. There was a boy, from one of the villages. When he told them O'Neill was not the one who attacked them…"

"You ran like a coward, confirming every suspicion instead of keeping them tied up until I could deal with the situation. You fool."

"Mistress, I…"

"Silence!" Astarte hissed, her voice soft and deadly. "I'm not interested in excuses, but I will allow you a chance to make good. Join my soldiers and turn them back; use whatever means you think necessary."

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you…"

"Go!"

As Aristeias grovelled away, Astarte turned to Amy. "Your friends are resourceful," she said. "And my servants, as you see, are idiots. And Jack wonders why I want you and Daniel." She sighed, wistfully. "No matter. I'll miss this planet, but this turn of events does not find me unprepared." The Goa'uld turned and walked to the open door. "Jaffa!" She called. "Find Rehetep. Get the Tau'ri, and bring them to the drive room." She turned, evidently speaking to a different Jaffa. "Bring the girl. Come with me."

Two Jaffa came into the room, and seized Amy by the arms, while a third released her chain. She was held roughly, and manhandled through the door.

*

After several hours of searching, Teal'c had found his way to the tunnels by following a patrol of Jaffa searching for him along the route. Two members of the patrol had been left to guard the tunnel gate, while the rest had backtracked the way they came. They had been young and foolish, and walked right past Teal'c as he sheltered in an alcove, pressed against the sides to support himself, some nine feet above the floor. Once they had passed, he lowered himself carefully to the ground, and slipped back to the gate.

The two Jaffa were talking, idly, and not paying a great deal of attention to their duty. No doubt they thought that the patrols passing up and down the corridors would catch him before he reached them. Teal'c was astonished and somewhat dismayed by the lack of training and experience displayed by these Jaffa, but he was not about to let that trouble him too much, as it made his life that much easier.

There was no way to approach the gate without being seen, so Teal'c opted for a brazen approach, striding purposefully towards the guards. The two Jaffa hardly reacted to his presence until he was within fifteen feet, and when they did their first response was to stand to attention, mistaking his purposeful tread for that of an officer. As they recognised him, they began to bring up their hunting goads, but Teal'c had already closed the gap between them, and was swinging the butt of his staff weapon up in a wide arc that brought it cracking against the skulls of both Jaffa. They collapsed like broken puppets, and Teal'c reached for the locking mechanism.

At the last moment, he snatched his hand back, evading the staff blast that burned into the panel. Teal'c turned, and saw another Jaffa striding towards him. This one was older, with scars on his face, and clearly had more in common with Astarte's First Prime, Rehetep, than with the two young fools lying unconscious at Tealc's feet. The Jaffa snarled at Teal'c as he approached.

Lacking the time to deploy and fire his own weapon, Teal'c stepped closer to his adversary, once more bringing the staff into play in hand-to-hand combat. The other warded the blow off, snapping shut the tip of his own weapon. Teal'c blocked a riposte, then each man stepped back to size the other up.

"I am Montu'akh, of the Plain of Sphinxes. I have come to kill you." The words were those of an executioner, sent to despatch a condemned Jaffa prisoner. The two untrained guards on the gate had been part of a trap, Teal'c realised, intend to lure him into the open.

"I am Teal'c," he replied, simply. "I have not come here to die." The traditional response would have been acceptance of his fate, but Teal'c had set aside tradition when he joined the Tau'ri.  
"I'm glad to hear it," Montu'akh replied. Then he attacked.

It was a long time since Teal'c had actually engaged in serious close combat with his staff weapon, but he had excelled in the discipline for much of his life. His enemy was also good, and was in better practice, but as they fought, Teal'c could feel the neglected movements flowing back, his body adjusting to each attack or parry almost without thought. Montu'akh grinned wildly at Teal'c, gripped by a fanatical joy. Teal'c knew that look, and he knew that joy; the joy which all Jaffa warriors were trained to feel in combat. Failure for a Jaffa brought punishment, but success rarely gained rewards. Instead, the battle became its own reward, fuelling the zeal with which the Jaffa served and died.

Teal'c blocked a high strike, and brought the tip of his staff round in a vicious blow to Montu'akh's ribs. The other Jaffa staggered back before a rain of blows, and for the first time since his betrayal of Apophis had given him a greater purpose, Teal'c felt the savage, primitive thrill of battle surge up inside his veins.

The two warriors battered relentlessly at each other, tireless limbs wielding the staff weapons with seemingly greater and greater skill, as the prim'ta in their bellies fed and replenished their bodies. In the rushing of his blood and the blur of the staffs, Teal'c lost all track of time. He forgot about Jack and Daniel, captive in the ship above him; forgot about Amy Kawalsky, dying on the arena floor; forgot about the SGC; about Chulak and his people. He forgot everything but the enemy before him as their struggle stretched to epic proportions.

And then it was over.

Teal'c struck Montu'akh's staff aside, and thrust the butt of his weapon hard into the other Jaffa's belly. With a high-pitched scream, the prim'ta died, and the Jaffa collapsed as all the punishment his body had taken suddenly caught up with him.

Teal'c, his body overflowing with adrenaline and endorphins, bellowed in triumph, and brought the staff cracking down on Montu'akh's neck. His mind was racing; his brain felt like it was boiling in his skull. He had won, now where was he going?

The door. That must be it; the door.

Although damaged by the staff blast, the locking mechanism still worked, and the door opened. Behind it stood two Jaffa, who turned, startled, with fear in their eyes.

_*_

The wedding of Zoë and Theos was a moving ceremony, for all its brevity. That they had loved one another for years was plain, and the ever-touching triumph of star-crossed love had only been accentuated by marking the climax of the ceremony with the ignition of the priming charge for the explosives which blew open the door to the tunnels.

The Pythoness then led Sam, Anat and Jacob - along with SG-14, Theos, Palmys and an older magistrate called Arctus, and six Hoplite guards - through the tunnels to the Palace. The Spartii had provided the two magistrates with hunting goads, and Sam had given Zoë and Theos as zat'nik'tel each. Damia had stayed behind, along with her friend Echthonus, to look after Ion and to keep a watch on the other Archons to ensure they did not try anything foolish.

"Wait here," Zoë instructed, walking several yards ahead of the others.

"What are we waiting for?" Sam asked.

Zoë paused a moment before replying: "If I'd been blasted to bloody ribbons, you'd know the device to deactivate the tacs was not working," she said. "I couldn't be sure…"

"Zoë!" Theos was horrified.

"Move on," Sam ordered, not wanting to stop for a debate about who should or should not be risking themselves. "And keep close together, in case the thing has a limited range."

With the tacluchnatagamuntoron minefield behind them, Sam took the lead.

"We're nearly to the long passage," Zoë warned. "If they see you first, the Jaffa might…"

She broke off as the sound of heavy breathing approached around the next bend. Signalling the others to hang back, Sam stepped quickly around the corner. As she did so, a staff weapon swept low at her legs. She dived over it, and rolled into a crouch, gun up and ready, as the staff snapped up and open. Only then did she get a good look at the face of her attacker.

"Teal'c?" She asked, genuinely confused. It looked like her friend, but the murderous rage on his face was unlike anything she had seen before. In response to her question, he only grunted.

"Teal'c," Anat said gently, rounding the corner. The staff swung to point at her. "Ne'nai, Teal'c," she said, holding out her hands, palms up, her voice soft and neutral. Teal'c gripped his staff more tightly. He was sweating profusely, but the rage had been replaced by a look of confusion. "Sam," Anat called, softly. "He knows you better. Lower your weapon, and speak to him. The rest of you stay back."

"Teal'c," Sam said again, letting the gun drop to her side. "It's me. It's Sam. What happened to you?" Teal'c turned back towards Sam, the weapon dipping in his hands. He looked afraid now, and when Sam stepped closer to him, he stepped away. "It's OK, Teal'c. Everything's going to be alright."

The staff weapon fell to the ground, and Teal'c took a stumbling step towards Sam. It took all she had not to flinch, but she managed it, and the Jaffa raised his hands to touch her face. He leaned close to her, looking at her, examining her as if seeing her for the first time.

"Major Carter," he said, his voice thick and uncertain.

"That's right Teal'c. It's me." The Jaffa sighed, and staggered back to lean against a wall. "What's wrong with him, Anat?"

"Adrenaline shock, nervous exhaustion, and the muscle pain must be driving him out of his mind by now," The girl replied. "He's been in a prolonged fight, and his larva has been keeping him going by driving him into a berserk rage. His brain pretty much switched off until he saw you, and he's been running on his instincts."  
With an agonised groan, Teal'c slumped down the wall.

"Will he be alright?"

"He will now," Anat promised. "He should be fine in a few hours, and able to walk in just a couple of minutes. It's only if they can't break out of the rage that Jaffa can cause themselves permanent damage." She crouched beside the Jaffa. "How are you feeling, Teal'c?"

"I have felt better, Setesh-ta-Anat," he replied, shakily. He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. "But I am able to go on."

"Teal'c," Sam said. "What happened to you? What happened to the others?"

"We were captured by Astarte," he told her. "She has Colonel O'Neill and Daniel Jackson still. Lieutenant Kawalsky was killed. We all of us assured her she would not be," he added, guiltily. "I do not know how much time we have left."

"Probably not long," Sam decided. "If you're OK to move, can you take us to where they were being held?"

"I do not know where our friends are at present," Teal'c told her, regretfully. "I passed through the cell block, but they were not there, so I believe Astarte's chambers at the summit of the pyramid would be our best starting point. I can find the way back there."

Sam nodded. "Alright, listen up," she called back to the others. "Once we get inside, stay on your toes. Major Hamilton; I want two of your men watching our back; the other two with me. Anat; help Teal'c." Anat stood by Teal'c, supporting his arm.

Sam turned to Archon Palmys. "This will go smoother with one chain of command," she told him.

"We are at your disposal," he promised.

"Thank you," Sam said, with feeling. "Have two of your men guarding the rear, the other four in pairs watching the flanks; I don't want anyone getting the drop on us. We haven't the numbers for a stand-up fight, so we'll need to keep on the move, find our people and get out. Everybody clear?" Nods and acknowledgements assured her they were.

"Then let's move."

*

In the secret chamber behind the drive room, Astarte waited impatiently for her Griffins to bring Jack O'Neill and Daniel Jackson to her. It galled her to flee from the Tau'ri, but she knew their skill from bitter experience, and besides had few illusions about the quality of the forces she had so far amassed. It was unfortunate that events had compelled her to move against the SGC so soon, but their attempts to open communications with the Thebans had forced her hand, and she had known all along that she might need to evacuate her former home once more.  
Four of her Horus Guards were with her, two flanking Amy Kawalsky and two watching the door. In addition, she had brought a handful of her most capable and trusted servants with her. Her remaining elite would join her with the other two captives, and the rest of her staff here would be left behind. They would not be molested or harmed - not if she read the SGC aright, and she was certain that she did - and would still be here, waiting when and if she returned.

The puzzle-door opened, and Rehetep's men dragged the prisoners in.

"Quickly," Astarte commanded. "There is not much time."

"Well, if we'd known you were in a hurry we'd have come sooner," Jack said.

"They have been delaying as much as they were able, Madame," Rehetep reported.

"Snitch," Jack accused.

"It was to be expected," Anat assured her First Prime. "And it is unimportant." She turned to a group of her servants, who scurried busily around a small naquada reactor. Behind them hung a great curtain, and it looked almost as though they were preparing a stage for a performance. "Do we have power yet?" She demanded.

One of the servants turned to her mistress apologetically. "No, Madame. Soon, but…"

Astarte cut the girl off with a curt wave. "No apologies. Just work."

Daniel gave Amy an enquiring glance, and she shook her head, as baffled as him.

"You seem confused," Astarte said, primarily addressing Jack.

"Just not sure what your plan is. That thing's not going to run this ship, is it?" He asked, pointing to the reactor.

"It would take far more work than would be worthwhile to make this ship ready for flight, let alone hyperdrive. No. This is Helios' escape route; an arrangement he made in order to wander somewhat, in defiance of his exile." She gestured at the servants behind her, and the curtain was dropped. Behind it, stood a Stargate.

*

Sam's team had entered the Ha'tak without a fight, stepping gingerly over the grisly remains of the two guards Teal'c had killed in his rage. After that, reaching Astarte's chambers had proven simple enough, with the green Jaffa of her guard putting up barely a token resistance. The closer they got, the more Sam became convinced that they were either being led into a trap, or going the wrong way. Sure enough, the chambers were empty.

"She's gone," Anat said.

Sam drew out her radio and called back to the Hope. "Jason. Has that Gate spiked?" A second Stargate; that was the source of Anat's 'anomalous readings'. Dormant, powered down as far as it could go, but very definitely a Stargate.

"Negative," the Jaffa replied. "But there's a new power signature; looks like a secondary reactor has been activated somewhere in the lower decks. I can't tell you any more; the Ha'tak's hull makes accurate readings impossible."

"She's preparing to open a wormhole," Sam surmised. "She could be going anywhere."

"We have to find her before she leaves," Anat said.

"This is a big ship," Hamilton reminded them. "A Stargate isn't small, but it could be anywhere in here. We'll never find it."

"The drive room," Teal'c said, almost to himself.

"Why are you always so negative," Anat demanded of Hamilton. "One of the servants might know; we just need to get someone to tell us."

"It is in the drive room," Teal'c said, louder.

"And how do we do that?" Hamilton asked, derisively. "Say pretty please? They worship this bitch, they're not going to give her up to us."

"There is a small naquada reactor in a secret chamber of the drive room," Teal'c said, patiently. "I saw no Stargate, but it would be the logical place." Both Hamilton and Anat looked up at the Jaffa in surprise. "I stumbled upon it while attempting to escape," he said.

"Let's go," Sam said, decisively. She turned to leave, but found the entrance blocked by a troop of Jaffa warriors, led by a Horus Guard; one of Circe's Griffins. Most of the Jaffa carried hunting goads, but a few - including their leader - had staff weapons.

"Not so fast," the leader commanded. Sam weighted up the situation. The Jaffa had got the drop on them while Anat and Hamilton bickered, but at the moment, her forces had the advantage of numbers. That could change quickly, and she knew she would have only moments to choose a course of action. If they were captured, then it might well be all up with her friends, and with her team, but if she tried to shoot it out, some of her team were almost certain to die. Her hand tightened on the grip of her weapon as she began to bring it level.

"Aristeias?" Zoë asked, stepping into Sam's line of fire. Sam silently cursed the girl, even as she realised that the Pythoness was right; the leader's voice, although distorted by the Jaffa mask, was that of the Heptarch. Theos moved forward, and tried to draw Zoë back with him, while Aristeias touched the back of his helm, and the Horus mask retracted into his collar.

"Surrender, Pythoness," the former Heptarch commanded. "Or you will all be killed."

"Never," Zoë and Theos spoke as one. Aristeias shrugged, raising his weapon to fire, and the two Theban leaders brought their zats up in response.

*

The reactor pulsed as it came on line, an almost visible burst of electromagnetic radiation rippling the air around it. The lead servant grinned excitedly as she turned to her mistress.

"Yes; I know," Astarte assured the woman before she could speak. "I'm not blind." The servant looked crestfallen, but perked up when Astarte continued: "Well done. Now how long for the Chappa'ai to charge?"

"A few minutes only, Madame."

Jack tensed against his chains. He did not know that Sam was attacking Astarte's base, but he guessed something of the kind, and realised that he would have to prevent the Goa'uld's departure if they were to be rescued. He glanced quickly towards Astarte, and she shot him with a zat'nik'tel.

"What the…" Amy demanded, before Astarte turned the gun on her. As the young lieutenant dropped, Astarte swung back to face Daniel.

"Do you know why I'm doing this?" She asked him, curious.

"No delays," Daniel said. "You're running and don't want us to try and slow you…" He crumpled as the zat blast struck him.

"Very good," Astarte commended his twitching form. "Watch them," she ordered.

*

The gunfight at the OK Corral was perhaps the most dramatised gunfight in history, but in reality it had simply involved nine men blasting away at each other for thirty seconds - the point when they all ran out of ammunition. Of the nine, only Wyatt Earp was uninjured in the gunfight, but only three men died, the majority of the shots missing their marks altogether.

This firefight was a lot like that, only the weapons were more accurate.

It was short, brutal and nasty, and when it was done, Sam could only thank her lucky stars that Astarte seemed so short on staff weapons. Few of her team had not been hit, but most were merely stunned and shaken by the hunting goads. One of SG-14's junior members, Lieutenant Lewis, had been less fortunate, and taken a staff weapon hit to the pelvis. He was not dead, but would need to receive medical attention, or he soon would be. Lieutenant Harper, Lewis' comrade, had also been grazed by staff fire, but was mobile. One of the Hoplites was dead, and Archon Arctus was certain that a goad blast had done for him. Palmys had been struck in the leg by a staff blast, but he simply bound the wound with a scrap of cloth and appropriated the offending weapon for use as a crutch. Theos was bleeding heavily, but looked as though he would survive. Zoë was tending to him again.

A quick check showed that all but one of the Jaffa were dead, the last unconscious. Of Aristeias there was no sign, but Sam knew that this was because he had taken at least three zat blasts from Zoë and Theos.

Sam was eager to move on, but she knew her duty to her men.

"Archon Arctus," she said. "Take Lewis and Harper back to the Stargate. They can take care of Lewis at the SGC, and they'll see to your wounds as well." She turned to Harper and whispered. "We need him to get you to the Gate and through it. Ask Dr Fraiser to give him a placebo, then get back here as quick as you can." Harper nodded his understanding.

Sam turned to face Teal'c. "Can you take us to the drive room?"

Teal'c nodded, his face grim.

"Then let's go."

*

"Madame." The servant cried, triumphantly. "The Chappa'ai is ready!" Daniel forced his head up to see what was happening.

"Finally." Astarte turned to the Stargate and raised her arms. She touched the gem set into the back of a gauntlet on her left hand, and the Gate thundered into life. Daniel had occasionally seen these 'quick-dial' devices used by Goa'uld to return to their homeworlds, and he wondered where Astarte considered her home to be if not here.

The Stargate opened, the shimmering surface of the event horizon settling within the ring without the usual blast of vapour. Even after a hundred journeys and more, even with every part of him in pain, it was still an awesome and beautiful sight.

"Jaffa, kree," Astarte commanded, gesturing to the Gate.

Strong hands gripped Daniel's limbs and lifted him from the ground. He could see the servants passing through the wormhole already, bearing heavy trunks, as he was carried effortlessly towards the Gate.

 

"Here!" Teal'c pointed to the door as they rounded the main reactor. His hands moved quickly over the puzzle lock, and the door began to open. Sam began to step around the door, but the Jaffa pulled her back as a staff blast burned into the doorframe. A withering fire spat from the opening, and Sam's team moved to the sides, out of the line of attack.

"We need to move in," Sam said. "Teal'c, Hamilton; on three, cover me." The two men nodded. "OK. Three!"

She dived through the door, rolling low. Fire broke out behind her, and that ahead of her slackened very slightly. Taking advantage of the momentary respite, she glanced around for cover, and saw none. She did, however, see her friends being carried up a ramp to the gleaming ring of the Stargate, and she did see Astarte, not five yards away from her.

Sam fired on the Goa'uld, half expecting her bullets to bounce harmlessly off a deflector shield. Instead, Astarte dived to one side, Sam's fire passing over her as she moved. Sam was momentarily stunned: The woman actually _dodged_ the bullets.

Then the shockwave from Astarte's ribbon device struck Sam and knocked her down. She felt the world topple, and the ground struck her hard in the back. Hands were on her, strangers - Astarte's servants - trying to lift her, and she summoned all of her strength to fight them. Then they were gone.

 

Teal'c saw Sam fall, but he had no more success than she had done in hitting Astarte. The Goa'uld jinked up the runway as her servants tried to drag Major Carter away, but a few shots from Teal'c's zat'nik'tel convinced them of the error of their ways.

The enemy fire slackened as several of the Griffins broke for the Gate and dived through. Teal'c risked stepping out through the doorway, and caught one of the fleeing warriors with a zat blast. The Jaffa threw himself aside to avoid another barrage of fire, and as he looked up, he saw the last of Astarte's followers leaping through the Stargate.

Pushing himself up, Teal'c ran for the event horizon, knowing that he might only have moments to pursue Astarte and his friends. Behind him, the reactor powered down with a loud thunk. The event horizon was only ten feet away. Eight feet.

Pain shot through him, and he fell heavily onto the ramp, inches from the event horizon, as the Gate snapped shut before his eyes

*

Sam relayed her report to General Hammond, who was not best pleased. While the recovery of Teal'c was cause for celebration, it was of course overshadowed the continuing absence of Daniel and Jack, not to mention the death of Lieutenant Kawalsky. With that duty out of the way, she returned to a quiet chamber in the Council Halls, where Jacob, Teal'c and Hamilton were waiting for her with Zoë and Theos.

"So?" She said. "How do we stand?"

"The Spartii have secured the Gate," Jacob told her. "But there is no trace of where Astarte may have gone. There was no DHD attached to the Gate, nor any kind of computer."

"One of Astarte's Jaffa remained behind and alive, but he has not been forthcoming," Teal'c added.

"Any idea where she got another Stargate?" Sam asked.

Jacob shrugged. "We're not sure she did. Helios probably brought it with him when he landed, or brought it up while he still had power for the freight rings. There's no external entrance a Stargate could have been brought through."

"Astarte probably arrived through that Gate," Zoë added. "It was as though she appeared from nowhere to announce Helios' demise. Then she told Cronus' Jaffa to leave, and established herself as protector."

"No one else will be arriving that way," Theos added. "On Teal'c's advice, we've laid it on its face and buried it with stone."

"Do you know where she arrived from?" Sam asked. "Maybe she went back."

"Probably Karnak," Jacob said. "I have sent a message to the Council; we will make enquiries among our agents."

"General Hammond will ask the Asgard and our other allies," Sam replied. "Hopefully someone will know. We've been given permission to pursue at once if we can learn where she's gone to; otherwise we're to return to Earth through the Gate and await further developments."

"I do not like the thought of abandoning our comrades," Teal'c said.

"Nor do I, Teal'c," Sam assured him. "And nor does the General, but there's not much more we can do here. With your permission," she went on, turning to Zoë and Theos. "We'd like to take the Griffin we captured back with us for questioning."

"Of course," Theos agreed. "I think your friend is with him now."

"Which friend?" Sam asked.

Before Theos could answer, the door to the chamber opened, and Anat entered. She was wiping her hands on a cloth, over and over, as though trying to clean something off them.

"You OK, Teal'c?" She asked, as soon as she had entered.

"It was only a zat blast; I have had worse."

"I'm sorry I shot you," Anat told him, sheepishly.

"I would have been halfway through the Gate when it closed if you had not," Teal'c replied, with a ghost of a smile. "I believe I shall find it in my heart to forgive you.

Anat smiled back at him, and then sobered. "Taulus," she said, apropos of nothing. "It's uninhabited, mostly used for naquada mining. Ra had possession of the planet, but abandoned it after the mines began to run dry; he got better returns focusing on Abydos."

"And it's important because…?" Hamilton prompted.

"It's where Astarte is holding our friends," Anat replied, as though that were obvious.

"You found out from the Jaffa?" Sam asked.

"That's right," Anat said, inspecting her hands. "Does anybody have a nail file?" She asked, her voice a little wobbly.

Teal'c looked at the girl with concern. "Are you well, Setesh-ta-Anat?" He asked.

"I'm fi…" She swallowed hard. "I'm disgusted at myself. I know I did the right thing, but to do that to another thinking being…" She smiled, wanly. "I guess I haven't changed as much as I thought."

"Is he…?" Sam began.

"Oh, yes," Anat replied, by now looking quite ill. "His symbiote should even be able to heal him."

"What happened?" Zoë asked, baffled.

"She tortured him," Hamilton answered, blank-faced, staring at Anat in a shock that went beyond revulsion. Zoë looked horrified.

Teal'c went to the young woman, and put his arms gently around her. She tried to pull away, but he held her against him.

"Don't," she begged. "Please, I…"

Teal'c shushed her gently. "It's alright," he promised.

"The things I did to him…to you. I'm the same."

"No," he assured her. "You are not. If you were, you would not care about what you'd done."

"Anat?" Sam asked, softly. "Do you know the Gate co-ordinates for Taulus?"

"Yes," Anat replied, but she shook her head as she said it. "But that won't help. The Gate is on another Ha'tak vessel; she'll have moved out of orbit by now. We can't Gate to where she is, and anyway, she'll have sealed the Gate."

"Then can we go after her?"

"Probably," Anat replied, still pressed against Teal'c. "We can track the hyperspace wake if we set off soon."

Sam nodded, slowly. "Major Hamilton," she said. Major Hamilton ignored her, still staring at Anat with an unreadable expression. "Major!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Hamilton snapped his eyes away from the young woman.

"At ease. Lieutenant Harper came back through the gate while I was making my report. Lewis is staying in the infirmary back home, but I want the rest of SG-14 assembled at the Hope and ready to go in one hour." Hamilton shot a wary glance at Anat. "Major?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hamilton acknowledged. He saluted again, then strode out.

"Perhaps I shouldn't come," Anat offered. "If he'll be uncomfortable…"

"No," Sam told her. "We need you along. You know Astarte better than any of us, and I don't think your crew would be happy leaving you behind."

Anat nodded her assent.

"Dad? Will you be coming along?"

"We'd like to see this through; if you'll have us," Jacob replied, speaking for both himself and Selmak.

"And welcome. So far my only assault on a Ha'tak vessel was unplanned, and nearly got me killed. I can use all the help I can get."

"We're sorry to see you leave so soon," Zoë told her. "I hope you'll come back."

"Thank you," Sam replied. "I hope I'll be able."

_*_

Daniel was finding Astarte's behaviour increasingly fascinating. On their arrival on the new Ha'tak vessel, one of her servants had apologised in grovelling terror for failing to bring Major Carter through the wormhole after them. Astarte had dismissed the frightened girl's excuses, then shushed her, stroking her hair and drying her eyes, assuring her that she was not angry. It would have been a happy state of affairs to have Major Carter in her custody, but she had known the odds were not with her. She commended the girl for surviving the experience, promised that no punishment would fall on her, and sent her away.

When Daniel asked her why she showed such mercy, Astarte merely smiled, and challenge him to work it out for himself.

Along with Jack and Amy, Daniel was taken to a large chamber, the décor of which featured a strong 'chains and manacles' motif. It had large widows, but these were closed and shuttered.

"We're in space," Jack concluded.

"We are indeed," Astarte affirmed. "The Stargate is only phase one of my escape route. Even if your friends manage to discover the co-ordinates of my destination, they will be unable to open a wormhole to follow." With a few quick gestures, she ordered her Jaffa to chain Jack to a pillar, and Daniel to an inclined slab. Amy was left where she was, surrounded by her three guards.

"This must be the torture, then," Jack said.

"I thought we could start with my fool," Astarte said. "When he needs to be rested, I'll move on to the girl, then back again. Until they are both broken, and you consent to be my consort."

"That's never gonna happen," Jack told her.

"Then your friends will be in pain for a very long time."

"Just out of curiosity," Daniel said. "And a burning desire not to be tortured; if you're going to break me to your will, won't that devalue me as your honest fool? Much the same as beating me for telling the truth."

Astarte strode over to Daniel, and looked him over. His jacket was long gone, and with clinical efficiency, she began unbuttoning his shirt, examining the skin underneath.

"So few scars," she said, almost to herself. A knife appeared in her hand, and with a few deft movements, she cut the arms of the shirt open, and pulled the garment away from him. Catching hold of his head, she pulled him forward and examined his back. "So little damage, yet so much pain…" She pressed her hand over his heart. "…Here. Well; the one can be remedied, if not the other."

Quickly, dispassionately, Astarte removed Daniel's belt, and gestured for a servant to take his shoes.

"You misunderstand my intent, Daniel," she told him, as his pants were also taken from him, leaving him all but naked. "I wish to break you to my service, not to my will. I should not have punished you earlier for speaking the truth, but it was only when I had time to consider your words that I recognised them for what they were."

"What?" Jack asked, astonished.

"Did you just…" Daniel sounded uncertain. "Did you just admit to a mistake?"

"I have been known to make mistakes," Astarte replied. She touched her servant on the arm before the girl could remove Daniel's underwear. "Leave those," she commanded. "Or Jack might get the wrong idea," she added, with a coquettish look in O'Neill's direction. A wave of her hand sent the girl scurrying away.

"You really have flipped, haven't you?" Jack said. Astarte left Daniel, and came back across to him.

"What is this to you?" Jack demanded. "Your idea of flirting?"

"More like seduction," she told him. "A breaking down of your resolve, so that in time, you will surrender to me, absolutely and completely."

Jack stared at her, aghast. "Doesn't the torture get old for you?" He ventured.

Astarte laughed, delightedly. "Not at all," she replied. "Each subject brings something new to the experience." She walked over to Amy. "Amy, for example, is strong, but she has a problem. Your military teaches you that it is impossible to resist torture. This is foolish, as it implants the expectation of failure. With her, it will be a matter of playing to that expectation; in time she will betray herself."

"Bite me," Amy said.

"It's an idea," Astarte allowed. "But I prefer a more refined approach. Of course she thinks she will hold out longer now that she knows how I intend to break her, but in fact it will just give power to her doubts and hasten the breakdown of her resolve."

Leaving Amy, Astarte returned once more to Daniel, walking around behind him so that - fastened in place - he could not turn to see her. "Daniel is more imaginative than either of you two soldiers. I can cause him greater discomfort in him, just by standing here, than I could in you with a ball-point pen and a piece of sandpaper."

Daniel strained to turn, panic behind his eyes. What the hell could she do with a ball-point pen and a piece of…

"You see what I mean," Astarte told Jack. "He has also loved, and he is not afraid to show his emotions, both of which can bring their own satisfactions."

"You're really into this," Jack accused.

"It's my art," she replied, as the servant returned with a tray covered in exotic looking knives. It looked as though she would not be using her ribbon device, as she had done on Teal'c.

Astarte selected a series of increasingly large, ornate knives, displaying each before Daniel's terrified gaze before returning it to the tray. There then followed a succession of hinged devices. Daniel was sweating in abject fear, and she had not yet even touched him. As she had said, his own mind was doing much of the work for her.

At last, satisfied with a small blade, kind of like a potato peeler, Astarte lowered her hand to Daniel's torso and began to cut.

"Leave him alone!" Amy protested. Astarte ignored her. "Just stop. I'll…I'll do what you want; just leave him alone."

"No," Daniel managed, in a gasp of pain.

"And last but not least," Astarte told Jack, not looking up from her work. "Loyalty. My, but that's a force that works wonders for a torturer. Perhaps you thought when last we met that I was torturing your Jaffa? I was not; I was torturing you. The Jaffa was merely the means I employed to do it." She turned to Amy, holding a long strip of skin in her hand. "Thank you for the offer, my dear, but I have to refuse. Your turn will come in time, but for now I think you should rest, and think about what I might be doing to Daniel."

She gestured to the three Jaffa, who led Amy away, protesting loudly.

"I love your people, Jack," Astarte told him. "I really do."

"What do you mean, 'I'?" Daniel asked.

*

Sam sat in conference in the back of the Hope, with Teal'c, Jacob, Hamilton and Rede. Anat was piloting the teltac, and her crew were hard at work, while Captain Miller and Lieutenant Harper of SG-14 sat quietly to one side.

"We can't trust her," Hamilton said.

"Yes we can," Sam assured him. "With our lives. She risked everything to help us before."

"I agree with Major Carter," Teal'c said. "We can rely upon Setesh-ta-Anat."

"Someone should stay and watch her, however we do this."

"Then I will watch her," Jacob assured him. "I can not go on board the Ha'tak; there is too much risk that Astarte or one of her older Jaffa would sense my presence." Hamilton looked little comforted by the thought.

"Major, I've had just about enough of your bellyaching," Sam told him. "I'll accept that you have reservations about Anat and her crew, although I don't share them. But if you want to question the trustworthiness of a decorated, two-star Air Force General and a trusted ally of the SGC, then we have a very real problem." She fixed the younger soldier with a steely gaze. "Do we have a problem, Major?"

Hamilton flinched. "No, Major," he assured her, recovering his composure. "No problem."

"Good. Now; the plan. Teal'c."

The Jaffa stood, and activated a small Goa'uld holographic projector. "The Hope carries a small library of technical specifications, fortunately including those of a military grade Ha'tak mothership." The image of the Ha'tak formed in the centre of the conference table. "The vessel may vary substantially from others of the same basic design, as all Goa'uld seek to make their own ships both more effective than those of their rivals, and internally as confusing as possible to any enemy who manages to board, but we can be certain that the vessel will have hyperdrive capability and defensive shields. Any frontal assault will obviously be suicide. However, there is a weakness we may exploit."

"A small, thermal exhaust port; right below the main port," Harper whispered to his colleague.

"Fortunately, nothing so difficult," Teal'c replied. "Major Carter." He gave a small bow as he yielded the floor to Sam.

"All Goa'uld vessels are equipped with transport rings. While the primary personnel rings are likely to be well guarded at all times, the freight rings, here" - she indicated the location of the freight bay on the schematic - "should be less defended, especially as Astarte does not know that we have access to a teltac.

"Using the Hope's freight rings, we can board the Ha'tak, hopefully undetected, where we will divide into two teams. Teal'c and myself will make our way to the shield generators, and set remote mines. We will then locate the prisoners, and once they are freed we will come to the main hangar, then detonate the mines so that the Hope can come in to pick us up. While the shields remain up, the assumption must be that we intend escape through either the primary or freight rings, which will buy us time.

"Meanwhile, SG-14 will plant remote mines in the primary drive chamber, and leave through the freight rings before the alarm is even raised." The schematic display altered, showing the layout of the drive chamber and the placement of the charges. "When we have all returned to the Hope, we detonate these charges, crippling the hyperdrives and triggering a chain reaction which should destroy the entire ship." Sam looked around at her team. "Any questions?"

"What am I doing?" Rede asked.

"You'll remain on the Hope," Sam replied. "I'm sorry, but you've no combat experience, and this operation is going to be tight." Rede frowned, plainly unhappy at being left behind. Sam knew how she felt, but she would almost certainly be a liability on board a hostile spacecraft.

"How will you find O'Neill and Jackson?" Hamilton asked.

"We may need to question some of the Jaffa to find out," Sam admitted. "But they'll almost certainly be in the cells or on the control decks. Either way, we may cause a stir, so I want you and your team off the Ha'tak as quickly as possible; understood?"

"Absolutely," Hamilton assured her.

"Sam," Jason called.

"Jason?"

"Anat said to tell you; we've picked up the Ha'tak's hyperdrive trail. Looks like we're less than two hours behind it."

*

"You have spirit, Daniel," Astarte complimented. "But then I knew that. You do scream much more than your Jaffa, though."

"He's not…my…Jaffa," Daniel huffed. He was not too badly hurt so far, but he had screamed so much that it left him dizzy and out of breath.

"My apologies," Astarte said. "His own Jaffa. Such a strange notion."

"Why do you keep doing that?"

"Why do I keep doing what?" Astarte asked, peering closely at his face, as though she were trying to see the workings of his mind.

"I. Me. My," Daniel replied. "Why not We. Us. Ours? Isn't that more common for a Goa'uld?"

"But I am not a common Goa'uld," Astarte assured him.

"You're talking to us as well," Daniel went on, getting his breath back and getting into his stride. "Not all of the time, but its there. Most Goa'uld talk at you, even with other Goa'uld. Truth to tell, you're not being very godly at all."

"Daniel," Jack warned. "Be careful with this truth thing."

"No, no," Astarte assured him. "Go on; please."

Daniel nodded, slowly, chastened by Jack's warning. "Well, I may be way off base here, but I get the feeling you don't want to be a god any more."

"Yes?"

"I think you're trying to be a new kind of ruler. More of an empress."

"Close," Astarte said. "But you missed one important factor. I never wanted to be a god. It was the Tau'ri who wanted that."

"Excuse me," Jack interrupted. "But, _what_?"

"When we found you, you were children; terrified of the dark. You had only just discovered how to tame fire, while we had long explored the universe in other forms. But we saw in you a potential for growth; to become something more, with the proper guidance."

"You're saying you enslaved us for our own good?" Jack asked.

"No. We took you and guided you, in order to make you into superior servants and hosts. We seeded the galaxy, each Goa'uld seeking to perfect your race. We became gods because that was what you desired; great spirits from beyond, who could promise you meaning in your lives. We became what you wanted us to be, so that you would follow."

"You used us," Daniel said.

"Of course. You wanted to be used. In many lands, the Tau'ri literally begged us to rule them, and we obliged. Under us, they grew strong, and we led them to great learning and knowledge."

"Knowledge that you could do nothing with yourselves," Daniel added. "Because the Goa'uld do not innovate."

"We benefited each other," Astarte told them. "Your people and mine. We gave you the powerful, absolute rulers that you needed to guide you, and you gave us service and advanced our understanding."

"We gave you slaves and hosts, in return for nothing," Jack retorted.

"You can't honestly be claiming that you did us a favour with generations of lies and oppression," Daniel added.

"Lies? You think we lied about being your gods?" For the first time, Astarte seemed to be becoming angry. "You stupid fool! We are your gods, because you have no other gods but us. Everything your people believed in we gave them. Before we came, you were animals, barely conscious of your own existence, stinking of filth because you were too stupid to cure the hides you wrapped about you against the cold.

"We brought you knowledge and understanding. We gave you nothing? We gave you everything! Whatever you are today, you are because of us, and yet you turned on us!"

"You brought that on yourselves!" Daniel snapped back, losing his cool. "The cruelty and injustice became too much; that was why we cast you back where you came from."

For one terrible moment, Astarte's eyes blazed with a fury so hot and pure that Daniel was certain that he would be burned down by it, charred to ash with a look. But then she turned, swallowed hard, and controlled herself.

"You are right of course," she said. "Well, in part. Some of our number did indeed bring rebellion on themselves, and upon the rest of us. It is too late now for gods and demons; that time has passed us by. The Tau'ri want a different breed to lead them now. Heroes and saints; sorcerers and demagogues."

"In some places, maybe," Jack protested. "But we believe in Democracy."

Astarte laughed out loud. "The last thing your founding fathers wanted was a democracy," she told him. "Don't you know your own history? And even then, you democratically elect an absolute ruler, and be honest, between your president and a movie star, who would your people rather follow?"

"I see you've been doing your homework," Daniel admitted.

"Your nation props up many dictators to fight the threat of communism. Why should they turn their backs on us?"

"Because you threaten us," Jack answered. "And we don't like being threatened."

Astarte smiled. "A ruler must engender fear," she told them. "Or she can not be taken seriously."

"Fear is not enough to rule us," Daniel assured her.

"Were you talking to Apophis I'm sure he would laugh at you, but I know these things, Daniel. My people love me as well as fear me, for I do not punish them unjustly and I reward them well for their service. Once, the Goa'uld understood this balance, but they grew idle, and so they fell." She put her face very close to Daniel's again. "And your people fell with them."

"No," Daniel protested. "We became free. We created our own technology…"

"Which is still decades behind ours, which has barely advanced in four thousand years. With our guidance and rule, the Tau'ri would be a force to rival the Asgard by now. The Tollan would have no technology to compare, and even the Ancients might look on you from their distant abodes and tremble. The Tok'ra weaken themselves by sharing their forms. They are greater in numbers and unity than the court of any one System Lord, but they can not challenge them for they dilute their strength with debate and hesitancy."

Astarte paused for a moment, then sent one of her servants for refreshments, releasing one of Daniel's arms so that he could drink.

"Do you know what a sacrifice is, Daniel?"

"When you give something up," he replied. "For some greater cause. Something important to you."

"That is the problem with your people. Too few of them know that. They think that a sacrifice is a tax hike they have to bear; that it's going without a second SUV."

"You really have done your homework."

"Knowledge is power, Daniel. You and I both know it. This girl," she gestured to herself. "She knew what a sacrifice was. She gave herself to me as host, that I could continue to guide her people. I respect that sacrifice, which is why I returned to her homeworld, Arcadia, where once I was goddess.

"I am old, Daniel," she told him. "The weight of millennia lies upon me, but I am not too old to learn. I was present when the Goa'uld took up their mantle as gods. I ruled a kingdom on the Earth and I ruled Arcadia, in the days when my subjects knew I was the serpent goddess who dwelt in the form of my priestess. With Ra gone, I am the oldest of the Goa'uld, and even while he lived, I was the wisest."

"And so modest with it."

"Modesty is not a virtue," Astarte told him. "But as much a vice as arrogance, or neglect. I owe your people my governance, and I will pay my debt."

"If you're so old and wise, why do you so want Jack as your consort's host?" Daniel asked.

"Hey!" Jack interrupted.

"A Goa'uld's host influences her personality, more so if the host is strong; if he is willing; and if he is the first host. This is especially true of human hosts, since you have such vibrant personalities. Jack fits all of these criteria, and I would dearly like to have my consort possess such traits as he does."

"And I thought you were just hot for my body."

"Oh, I am that," Astarte admitted. "But more than that, you remind me of my first love; my Sutekh."

"Who?"

"Setesh," Daniel reminded him. "Seth."

"That sleazebag!" Jack wailed, offended.

*

The five soldiers checked their weapons and equipment carefully. The four humans were dressed in modest servants' robes that they had appropriated from the Palace on Arcadia, which limited their choice of armaments. In the end, they each carried only a zat'nik'tel, strapped to their left arm in the Jaffa manner, but under the sleeve. Since his face was most likely to be familiar, and his tattoo impossible to conceal, Teal'c wore the armour of the captured Griffin. He had commented that it was too tight, but accepted his role without further complaint.

Jason was running Lieutenant Harper through the function of the transport ring control device which he now wore on the back of his left hand. Teal'c wore a similar device.

"It's simple enough," the Jaffa was saying. "Just be sure everyone is completely within the rings before you trigger it, or someone could lose a limb."

"This thing looks pretty lethal," Harper commented, examining the talon-like fingers of the half-gauntlet on which the device was mounted.

"It is," Teal'c confirmed. "Be wary of scratching yourself whilst wearing it." Harper laughed.

"I have known recruits to suffer serious injury that way," Teal'c assured him. Harper looked nervous, and scratched cautiously under his arm with his right hand.

"Be careful, Sam," Jacob cautioned his daughter. "If you die too often, one of these days it might stick."

"So I keep telling Daniel," Sam replied, with a faint smile. "Don't worry, Dad. I'll be back."

"I have to worry," he told her. "I'm your father. It's my job."

Sam shook her head, fondly. "I'd hug you," she assured him. "But not in front of the troops." Jacob smiled, and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

"How's Rede?" Sam asked.

"Jack's taking it pretty hard that you won't let her go. I think she knows why really, but she feels guilty for getting left when SG-1 were captured. That and the closeness here is getting to her."

"We'll try not to be too long," Sam promised. Then she hugged him, troops or no troops. "If I don't make it…"

"You will."

"But if not, tell Mark…"

"Tell him yourself," Jacob ordered. "You come back now, hear me?"

"Yes, General," she agreed, burying her fears for his sake.

Jacob smiled. "I'm so proud of you, Sam," he said.

"I love you, Dad," she replied, her stomach knotting with fear as she said it. She dispelled the feeling, which was not unfamiliar, and tried to focus on the mission. Gathering her composure, she headed across the chamber to the freight rings.

"Sam!" Jason called, as she came over to him. "You know I can't keep the transport rings powered after Major Hamilton and his men return? Once the alarm is raised, they could try to transport back across here and take the ship. You won't be able to fall back on the rings as an escape route."

"I know," Sam replied. "Just you be sure to bring the Hope straight in once we blow the shields. I don't really want to be stuck on board that thing any longer than I have to be."

Jason nodded. "If you get stuck…"

"If we get stuck," she told him, firmly. "We'll blow the mines on the reactor. If the shields are still up, they should hold just long enough for you to get out of there."

"I don't like the thought of leaving you there," Jason admitted.

"And I don't like the thought of being left," she promised. "I don't plan to die today, so don't go giving up on us."

"Never," Jason promised, earnestly. "And we'll give you the best cover we can while you get on board," he added, awkwardly, as though there were more he wanted to say, but could not.

"Thanks. I think we'll need it," Sam confessed, feeling the same awkwardness herself.

"Good luck," Jason offered, a little lamely.

"Thanks, I…" Sam broke off as Jason leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips.

"I'm sorry," he said, blushing bright red.

"Don't be," she told him, meaning it. He seemed unable to meet her eyes. "I'll see you soon," she said, before turning back to her troops. "Alright, everyone. I guess it's about that time."

*

"I first met Sutekh not long after Cronus and his servants stole Arcadia from me," Astarte told Daniel. He was fascinated, although perhaps not best disposed to listen to the life story of the woman who was slowly crushing his fingers in a thumbscrew. "I had just sworn my service to Ra, and was made commander of one of his great armies in the struggle to overthrow the Supreme Lord Sokar. Sutekh was Ra's premier commander, and we fought alongside one another in many battles."

"You mean you sent men to die alongside each other," Jack interrupted.

"Oh no, Jack," Astarte assured him. "I have never been one to lead from the back, and in those days nor was Sutekh. He was like a force of nature; a desert storm."

"The Fury of the Red Lands," Daniel whispered, forcing the words through his ragged throat. "Lord of Storms and Master of Calamities."

"Oh, yes," Astarte sighed. "Those were his days of glory. He followed orders poorly, but he was a superb tactician, and never lost the field in all the centuries we fought side-by-side." Astarte's eyes shone as she spoke, not just literally, burning with the Goa'uld glow, but figuratively, as she sang the praises of her once-lover.

"We stood shoulder to shoulder on the field," she told Jack. "Ordering the battle, and lending our own strength where it was needed most. When each battle was ended we would retire together, and while away the hours. On the field he was a storm, and in our chambers…"

"We get the picture," Jack assured her. "Thank you."

"We were in love then; and he never looked at another."

"But he did. Later." Daniel hazarded. He cried out as Astarte tightened one of the thumbscrews.

"That is unimportant."

"It isn't though, is it?" Daniel asked. "It's everything."

"Daniel," Jack cautioned.

"It was her, wasn't it? The Seed of Pre? Ra didn't exile Sutekh for trying to seize his throne; or not just for that: He cast him out because Sutekh wanted Hathor."

"I wonder if you might not be too clever for your own good, Daniel," Astarte mused. She hid it, but Daniel realised that he had struck a nerve.

"It's been said before," Jack noted.

"Yes," Astarte admitted, bitterly. "Sutekh came to desire Hathor, and she him. They plotted to overthrow Ra and dispose of me, but I revealed their treachery and he as exiled. Hathor stayed by Ra's side for a while longer, since Ra was as besotted as Sutekh."

"What did everyone see in her?" Daniel wondered aloud. It seemed to gain him some favour, and Astarte loosened the screws.

"Power," she replied. "Not that she had it, but that she wanted it. She burned for it. Her ambition knew no bounds, and to many Goa'uld that was enough to inflame them beyond reason." She gestured to a waiting servant, and the girl mopped Daniel's brow, and trickled water down his chest to wash the blood from the multitude of tiny cuts that adorned his skin.

"Of course, other Goa'uld seek other traits in their queens, and so in their hosts." Daniel shivered in premonition; it seemed that Astarte planned to return the wound he had dealt in kind. "Apophis always sought quiet, humble, diffident women. That was why he took an Abydonian woman; after centuries of Ra's dominion, they were precisely what he sought."

"Sha're was not…"

"Of course not," Astarte agreed. "You saw to that, did you not? You gave her pride and strength; a fire she never really understood. That is probably what Apophis saw in her that drove him to ignore the law and conceive on her the Harseisis." Daniel flinched. "But that is not all. Amaunet also had to choose to break that law."

"Stop," Daniel begged. "Please."

"I knew the host of Apophis before he was taken. He was a scholarly man; quite gentle and compassionate. You remind me of him, as Jack reminds me of Sutekh."

"No," Daniel moaned.

"Hey! Leave him alone!" Jack shouted, twisting against his chains.

"Perhaps there was something in him, that awoke Sha're's desire for you in Amaunet?"

Daniel began to weep with horror at the thought that Sha're might have been drawn to Apophis, and guilt burned in his chest that he could even contemplate such a thing.

Astarte stepped close to Daniel, lifting his chin to gaze into his eyes.

"I want your honesty, Daniel," she said. "But never try to analyse me again." Daniel made no reply; he could barely breathe past the tears, let alone speak.

Astarte drew out a long, gently curved blade and ran it down Daniel's cheek.

"Shall we go on?" She asked him. "Or shall I let you rest while Amy takes your place?" Daniel glared at her in pain and hatred.

"I'm fine," he assured her, through gritted teeth.

Astarte smiled. "Very well." She positioned the knife at his throat, and placed her palm over the hilt, ready to thrust the blade through his neck. "Now, if I get my aim wrong, this will probably kill him," she said, addressing Jack without turning. "Quite slowly and horribly. But of course that will only be a temporary reprieve."

"Stop," Jack told her.

"Why should I do that?"

"I give in," he said. "I'll do what you want."

"No, Jack," Daniel gasped. "She won't stop. She'll still make you watch; make you take part."

"I…I can't do this, Danny Boy," Jack confessed. "I'm sorry. I just…can't go on watching." He hung his head. "I wish I could make her stop, but I can't, and I'm sick of it."

Astarte eyed Jack warily, suspiciously.

"I just want it to stop," he told her. "All of it. I don't want to be the hero anymore. I've fought for so long, and all I've got is torture and pain, and a whole lot of dead friends."

"Jack, no!"

"Shut up, Daniel!" Jack and Astarte snapped in unison.

"I just want out," Jack said. "I just want it over. This seems like a better way than most. Hell," he added, bitterly. "I don't have to worry about anyone else anymore, I live forever, and I get the girl. What more could a man like me ask for?" He sighed, resignedly. "Let's get this over with," he told Astarte.

She nodded, gravely. "Let's."

_*_

Two Jaffa were in the freight bay when Sam and her troops arrived. They were on watch however, and the new arrivals took them completely by surprise, allowing Sam and Teal'c to drop them with no more disturbance than the sound of their zats.

"Good luck, Hamilton," Sam said.

"And you, Major," the younger officer returned.

SG-14 moved towards the back of the freight bay and the passage to the drive chambers, while Sam and Teal'c headed for the outer circuit corridor. Disguised, they passed without comment until they came to an axial passage which cut from one corner of the pyramid to the opposite point, bisecting the central shaft which housed the shield generators. Ahead of them, she could see the machines, pulsing with energy, while small figures moved around their bases.

Guards? Technicians? Whoever they were, there was a risk that they would see Sam placing the mines, and raise the alarm too soon. Fortunately, she and Teal'c had devised a plan for just such an eventuality.

 

Meru'het and Tal'far had been Jaffa warriors for a decade now. They had been part of the what were called the Blessed Breed; of the twelve Jaffa who had sworn service to Astarte together ten years ago, ten had risen to take their place in the Horus Guard, and one of those had been granted a place in the personal guard of Ra shortly before the Supreme Lord's death. Meru'het and Tal'far were however the other two. They had never achieved the slightest distinction in their mistress' service, and so were eternally condemned to the most menial of guard duties. Little did they suspect that this inconsequentiality was solely responsible for the fact that they had survived the purges carried out by the new Astarte to secure her position. As trusted servants of her murdered double, the remainder of the Blessed Breed had been sent to die in battle against Apophis.

These two overlooked peons stood guard by the generators, possibly the worst guard duty of all on board a Ha'tak vessel. They were hot and irritable from being stuck next to the massive power relays, and they were very bored indeed.

"I spy," Meru'het began. "With my little eye. Something beginning with 'S'."

"Shield generator," Tal'far replied. "I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with 'G'."

"Generator," Meru'het replied.

"You know what we need?" Tal'far asked his friend.

"Fine wines and fast women?" Meru'het hazarded.

"Well, yes. But other than that, a table."

"Ah. For the placement of the fine wines, and the ravishment of the fast women."

"No, ha'shak; for the playing of cards. Or hounds and jackals. Or something to pass the time on these endless…"

"Jaffa; kree!"

The two Jaffa stood to sharp attention as the Horus Guard approached. Meru'het felt his paunch - extra protection for the prim'ta, he always said - press uncomfortably against his armour, and tried without notable success to suck it in. Tal'far fit better in his armour, but had neglected to either don his skullcap or shave his head before coming on duty, and was painfully aware that he cut an unacceptably slovenly figure, even for a generator guard. Both Jaffa felt the steely gaze of one of the glittering hawk-eyes fall on them with cold malice.

Without another word, the elite warrior set about inspecting the chamber, searching with an air of intensity for some unnoticed discrepancy. The two Jaffa shared a look of concern, and hastened to make themselves useful to the Griffin, all the while commenting on the slackness of the Jaffa who had stood the previous watch. The officer nodded, patiently, but the eyes of his helm still gazed coldly upon them, and the razor-edged beak glistened.

 

With the guards thus occupied with Teal'c's bogus inspection, Sam slipped behind the generators, and carefully positioned three remote charges on the main power couplings. According to the schematics and to Teal'c and Jason's experience, this would be the weakest point on the generators. There were backup couplings, but a sudden rupture of all three main couplings should cause enough damage to disable the fragile generator.

The mines themselves were small and discrete, with no tell-tale lights to give them away. The explosions would be small, less than from an average grenade, and with no shrapnel, but the charges were shaped, and would direct the full force of the explosion into the couplings. She checked the detonator, and made certain that it was receiving an 'armed' signal from SG-14's mines as well as those she had set, before she slipped back into the main chamber and out to the corridor.

 

"Everything seems well," Teal'c told the guards, approvingly. "Very good. You are a credit to your training."

"Oh," Meru'het replied, surprised. Tal'far nudged him urgently in the ribs. "I mean, thank you sir; very kind of you to say so."

"Yes. Very kind indeed," Tal'far agreed.

"I shall bring your names to the attention of the mistress herself," Teal'c added, bringing the two men out in a cold sweat of mingled terror and desire.

 

"Nice work, Teal'c," Sam commended as she rejoined her friend.

"Astarte has plainly had little opportunity to weed out the weak from her forces," the Jaffa replied. "Or the foolish."

Sam smiled as she spoke into her field radio. "Hamilton from Carter; come in, over."

"Hamilton here, over."

"Are you boys done? Over." Sam asked.

"Done and dusted," Hamilton replied. "We're back on the Hope; ready when you are. Over."

Sam nodded. "See you soon," she said. "Over and out."

*

Amy sat in a large and sumptuous chamber, clad in Goa'uld finery. Two servants had come to help her change out of her duelling robes and into these silken garments, but she had seen them off sharply and dressed herself. She felt kind of silly, but the outfit was not unduly revealing, and was actually quite comfortable.

She was watching two of her guards play some sort of board game, while the third stood watch, eyes fixed on her as she sauntered innocently over to the table.

"Keep your distance," the sentry cautioned. "I don't want to have to hurt you." He lowered his hunting goad into firing position, although his grip on it remained loose and easy. Amy did not believe him for a moment; from the tone of his voice, he would very much like to hurt her. If the other two guards had not been there, he might well have done so already.

"Easy, chief," she said, holding her hands where he could see him. "Just wanted to watch the game."

"Watch from back there," the Jaffa instructed, gesturing with the weapon.

"Make me!" Amy snapped. The vicious grin on the Jaffa's face as he fired the goad confirmed her suspicions. He did enjoy hurting people.

Amy fell hard, winded by the goad blast. The guards argued briefly, the two at the table warning the other that Astarte would be angry if Amy were harmed. Amy dragged herself painfully to her feet, shot her attacker a look, then retreated to a curtained off end of the room, furnished as a bed chamber. The curtains were quite thick enough to hide whatever went on behind them from guards in the rest of the room.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Amy rubbed the feeling back into her limbs and waited. She only had to wait a little less than a minute, before the Jaffa with the hunting goad followed her.

"We're not to let you out of our sight," he told her. Amy nodded, nervously. There was no way out of the bed chamber aside from through the curtain, so his presence was unnecessary, but Amy did not want him to go after she had gone to the trouble of getting him in here.

The look she had cast at the Jaffa had been crafted to appeal to him: Fear and pain, mixed with just a little need; he had not been able to resist. Amy had known a guy like him at college, back when she had been hanging with the wrong crowd in order to annoy her parents and her over-protective brothers. Even for the wrong crowd, that guy had been bad news, and after knowing him a few weeks, she had been about ready to run back to the family fold and go to a convent school until her father could arrange her marriage to a nice Catholic boy.

Amy might not be exactly vanilla, but that guy - like this Jaffa - was a serial abuser. That was why the Jaffa was in here; to take possession of someone he saw as vulnerable.

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised, meekly.

"Better safe than sorry," he replied. Amy tried to slip around him, and he held out the goad to stop her. As the tip of the weapon moved past her head, Amy turned and drove the knuckles of her right hand into his windpipe.

The Jaffa gasped, and tried to draw back, but Amy caught hold of his hunting goad and dragged him off balance. He tumbled hard onto the bed, releasing the goad as he hit. Amy raised the weapon and struck him hard over the head with it; once, twice. The Jaffa lay still, bleeding from a gash on his forehead. There was a zat'nik'tel at his belt, and Amy took it, switching the goad to her left hand.

The other two guards seemed to have made no response. If they heard the noise, it must not have been anything they had not heard before. Amy readied the zat, located the goad's trigger and fired it into the wall behind her. When there was still no sound of movement outside, she screamed, loud and sharp. Still there was nothing.

Rolling her eyes, Amy stepped out through the curtain. The two Jaffa looked up briefly, then did a double-take as they saw the weapons in her hands. As one, they tried to stand, but Amy had already fired, dropping the first cold with a zat blast, and sending the other writhing to the floor with the goad. She stepped over to the second Jaffa, and levelled the zat.

"Ahhhhh," she said, repeating her scream calmly, but pointedly. "Rape." She blasted him into unconsciousness. "Slack bastards."

*

Anat held the Hope close behind the Ha'tak; or at least, close in relativistic terms. In real space, there was probably a gap of several hundred thousand miles, but the velocities involved in hyperflight compressed relative distance. What mattered was that they were close enough to reach the ship quickly once the shields went down, but not so close that they would plough into the back of it if they dropped into normal space unexpectedly.

Beside her, Jacob fingered the override detonator for the remote mines; the emergency fallback plan, in case Sam and Teal'c did not…Anat cut off that thought; Teal'c had to make it, and Sam too, and all the others. Jacob was at least as nervous as she was, having been entrusted with the task of blasting his daughter's atoms across the galaxy if the need arose. Jacqueline Rede sat beside Jacob - she said it helped her to be in the cockpit, where she could see the stars - with a hand resting supportively on his arm. All three of them would sooner have been on board Astarte's Ha'tak vessel than here, and while they all understood why they were not, it did not make things any easier.

The cockpit hatch slid open.

"Major," Anat greeted Hamilton, as he entered. The Tau'ri made no response. Anat half-turned; the man looked hot and nervous, as though suffering from the same condition as Rede.

"Any word?" Jacob asked.

"Nothing new, Tok'ra dog," Hamilton replied, harshly, then slugged the General hard around the head with the butt of his pistol.

"What the…?" Rede cried out, alarmed, and Hamilton smashed the gun into her face. Anat, sensing Hamilton's intent, snatched the detonator from Jacob's limp hand. Seeing the movement, Hamilton spun, raising the weapon to her temple.

"Give me the detonator," he hissed. "We're blowing that thing to hell and going home."

"No." Anat told him. "You can't fly this thing home without my crew," she added. "So don't threaten me either."

"They're gone," Hamilton insisted. "We have to do it this way."

"You don't know that," Anat replied. "You don't even believe it."

"Give me the detonator, bitch," Hamilton demanded, voice strained and desperate. He shifted the barrel of the pistol and pressed it hard up behind her ear. "Or I will blow your pretty face all over those controls." Anat heard the words, and knew that he was not lying.

*

Daniel was drifting in and out of consciousness. He knew he was weak from the blood loss, but that Astarte would never let him die. Or at least not stay dead. Sometimes he would hallucinate when he drifted out, and imagine that Sam or Jack or Teal'c would come to rescue him, but always he woke up back in his chains, strapped to Astarte's torture pedestal.

"…aniel? Daniel?" Daniel forced his eyes open. Blearily, he saw a Goa'uld queen leaning over him. Astarte must have come to continue her work. He wondered dimly where Jack was; had Astarte brought her new consort to watch him suffer, or was he still in the grip of the transition.

Astarte began to unchain Daniel, and he tried to force himself more awake. "I'm fine," he insisted, his voice sounding slurred even to himself. "I'm fine. Finish with me first."

"Daniel. What are you talking about?"

"Finish with me," he repeated. "Just leave Amy alone."

"Oh, Daniel," Astarte whispered. "I'm…I'm touched."

Daniel shook his head to clear it, which proved to be a huge mistake. "Ow," he said. "Amy; is that you?"

"It's me, Daniel. I've come to get you out of here."

"I thought…"

"It's the dress," Amy assured him. "I'm not offended or anything. Can you walk?"

"I'm having trouble talking, so I suspect no," Daniel drawled.

"Okay," Amy replied. "I think I have an idea. Just lean on me."

*

Jack was taken to one of the Ha'tak's more private chambers, where he was directed to strip and bathe, and then Astarte anointed him with oil. The thought of what was to come weighed on him so heavily that he could not even enjoy the anointing a little bit.

"Your worries will soon be over," Astarte promised.

Her servants came and dressed him in white robes, and he was led from the chamber by Rehetep, the First Prime of Astarte, who carried the Goa'uld who was to be given control of Jack's body.

"So what happens to you?" Jack asked the First Prime; a tall man with an Egyptian complexion. "Do you just fade away?"

"I am Astarte's loyal servant. A new prim'ta has been selected and prepared for me."

"Does it bug you? Seeing her go for another guy?"

"I love my mistress," Rehetep replied. "But I do not _love_ my mistress. I have a wife and a young son."

"How sweet," Jack commented. "You bring them with you from home?"

"No," the man replied, pained. "I was shol'va in my home; it is better for my family there that I be thought dead. I married Tan'auc after we came to this world. She was a widow; I adopted her daughter, Meyn'auc, when we were joined."

"One big, happy family. Hope I get to meet them someday."

"I am sure it can be arranged," the Jaffa replied, affably.

Rehetep led Jack to a large chamber, where a great statue rose above a large space, ringed by a shallow trench. Rehetep left Jack staring at the colossus, while he went to speak with Astarte.

The statue was of a being vaguely humanoid, but without sexual, or even racial characteristics. Something in its strength suggested one of the Unas, but there was a smoothness more akin to a human. From one angle it bore a patrician dignity, from the other a girlish innocence. Wound about, and through, the form was a great, serpentine shape; a Goa'uld.

"Hello," Jack said.

"Asar," Astarte said, behind him. "God of gods, as it were."

"You worship him?"

"Venerate," Astarte replied. "It is a legendary hero among us; the first Goa'uld to ever take a host. The truth of its life is lost, even to the memory in our blood, but if we had a God, Asar is it."

"It? You don't know if your legendary hero was a boy or a girl?"

"A Goa'uld is sexless; you know this, Jack. Many of us have a preference for hosts of one gender or the other, but with a being such as Asar, such labels are demeaning. It took many hosts; male and female, and…other."

"And this is where I get the snake?"

Astarte frowned. "Do not speak of it so flippantly," she told him, sternly. "You will be the child's first host; if not for my sake then for its, please try to maintain a sense of occasion."

"Madame." 

Astarte turned to speak with Rehetep. "Ah; Jack," she said. "you wished to meet my First Prime's kin?"

Jack turned, curious, and saw Astarte standing with Rehetep, and his family.

"Lord," Rehetep addressed Jack. "This is my wife, Tan'auc, and our children, Meyn'auc and Key'ac."

Tan'auc was a handsome woman in early middle age, which meant that she was probably about forty years older than Jack. Her daughter was a pretty girl, and must have been about of an age with Teal'c's kid, Ry'ac. Key'ac could not have been more than a year old, and the hulking Horus Guard held the boy with incredible care.

"We are honoured to meet you," Tan'auc told him. Meyn'auc stepped forward, nervously, and held out a medallion, made from a small coin with a hole through the middle.

"Um…Likewise," Jack hazarded. "Is that for me?" He asked Meyn'auc.

The girl nodded, and blushed awkwardly. "It's not much," she admitted.

"It's lovely," Jack assured her. "Thank you." Her blush deepened, her dark-skinned face turning almost crimson.

"Enough now," Astarte told them, gently but firmly. "We must begin the ceremony. Rehetep, take your place. Your family may bear witness if they wish."

Jack hung the medallion around his neck.

"Charming, aren't they?" Astarte asked.

"Very. What are they doing on a warship?"

"This is my home away from home; many of my people live here. I had hoped to establish them on my beloved Arcadia, but I suppose that may never happen now." She sighed, regretfully.

"You really liked that place?"

"You did not?"

"I just never saw a Goa'uld get sentimental before."

"Oh it happens," Astarte assured him. "We just take pains not to show it. We have our favourites, people and places; you will see. Now; come, Jack. Kneel before Asar, and become something more than human."

*

The lights in the corridor went red, and an alarm sounded.

"Hell," Sam cursed. "Too soon." She checked the detonator, but it was still flashing ready lights for both sets of mines. "How much further to the control decks.

"Not far now," Teal'c promised her. "The commander's chambers should be just along the next corridor. I believe."  
Footsteps approached up the corridor before Sam could reply. Teal'c turned, acting every inch the Griffin as three Jaffa regulars rounded the corner.

"Where are you going?" He demanded.

"The girl," the first replied. "She escaped. She killed one of her guards and incapacitated these two. We think she's trying to release the other prisoners.

Teal'c nodded. "Carry on," he ordered. The Jaffa saluted, and the three of them ran off along the corridor. Teal'c turned back to Sam, whom the Jaffa had barely noted. "Our friends are this way," he told her, gesturing dramatically.

"What girl?" Sam asked, as they followed. "I thought Lieutenant Kawalsky was dead."

*

Daniel woke to pain; he was beginning to forget the last time he had woken without.

"Are you feeling better, Daniel?" Amy asked him.

"Not much," Daniel replied.

"I don't understand," she said. "I thought these things were supposed to heal you?"

"They do," Daniel assured her, climbing stiffly out of the sarcophagus. "And it has. But the pain is still there. Maybe I wasn't in quite long enough." He slipped and almost fell, but Amy caught his arm and supported him.

"Well, we can work that out later. Let's get you some clothes, and go find Colonel O'Neill."

"Oh yes. Clothes. I almost forgot." Amy looked sideways at him, concern in her eyes. "Don't worry; I'm not damaged, just confused."

They managed to locate Daniel's pants, but his shirt was pretty thoroughly shredded, so they left it behind. Leaning on Amy to one side and a hunting goad to the other, Daniel was able to move at a decent pace, but he was worried that they would attract too much attention.

"Where's the Colonel?" Amy asked.

"He told Astarte to implant him," Daniel told her. "I don't know where she took him after that, or if he'll be a Goa'uld by now. He shouldn't have given in."

"Yeah," Amy agreed. "But I guess you've both got martyrdom issues. He'll let her put a snake in his head for you, and you'd take the lash for him. Or for me," she added, softly.

"I noticed you were pretty keen to do the same," Daniel commented. "For which thank you, but that was a stupid thing to do. I mean, what would you have to look forward to."

"Centuries of life as a healthy, curvy young thing," Amy told him. "Food, wine, slaves…and all the Daniel Jackson I could eat," she admitted, blushing.

"Huh?"

"Oh yeah; part of the offer was the Empress' - or whatever she was planning to be - fool as my personal cuddle monkey. Lady knows her audience I guess," she said with a helpless shrug.

Before he could answer, three Jaffa warriors burst into the chamber. They were obviously seeking Amy, for they registered no surprise at seeing her there. Amy's zat was on her belt, but she was supporting the injured Daniel, while the lead Jaffa had his staff weapon already levelled.

"Surrender," the Jaffa ordered, training the weapon on Amy. "Or we fire. Death is no escape from Astarte."

Amy felt Daniel's arm tighten around her waist. "OK," she said. "We surrender."

"Hands where we can see them," he ordered.

"I put my hands where you can see them, he falls down and bumps his noggin," Amy pointed out. "Which, if you recall, your mistress probably values rather more highly than yours."

The Jaffa's face registered a moment's indecision, which was just long enough for Daniel to grab the zat from Amy's belt and put him down. Zat blasts coiled around the other two guards.

Amy whistled her approval. "Damn, you're good."

"I only shot one of them," Daniel protested, weakly.

One of the guards collapsed, revealing a woman standing behind her. She was dressed in a servant's robe, but carried herself quite unlike Astarte's humble serfs.

"Sam?" Daniel asked, unbelieving. "Teal'c?" He asked, with less certainty, as the Horus Guard appeared behind the last guard.

"Greetings, Daniel Jackson; Lieutenant Kawalsky," the Horus Guard intoned.

"Kawalsky?" Sam asked. "I heard…ah, never mind."

"Major Carter." Amy saluted as best she could with Daniel still clinging to her waist for support. "Sorry I'm not in uniform."

Sam waved it off. "Been there. Done that," she assured the young woman.

Amy smiled, but just as quickly her expression turned serious again. "Unc…Colonel O'Neill has been taken to have a Goa'uld implanted in him," she reported. "We don't know where."

"The Asar shrine," Teal'c said. "It is the only place on board a Ha'tak vessel where the ceremony would be performed."

"Astarte's dropped a lot of the old ways though," Amy cautioned, but Daniel shook his head against her hip.

"She'll want to do this with as much ceremony as she can. However much she wants to change the way she rules, she can't change who she is. She'll have to make a big show of her victory."

"Teal'c, can you find this shrine?" Sam asked.

"I can, Major Carter. The shrine is located at a precise point; its location can not be varied, regardless of the Ha'tak's design specifications."

"Could someone help me with Dr Jackson?" Amy asked. "He's feeling pretty tortured."

"Leave me here," Daniel told them. "Get Jack then come back for…"

"No!" The three spoke as one.

Sam switched her zat to her off hand, and took Daniel's left arm. "Everyone's always so keen to die," she said. She and Amy lifted Daniel, so that he could walk between them. "Teal'c; the Asar Shrine. No one's going to be dying today."

*

"You're planning to blow up my friends," Anat told Hamilton. "Including the man I love. Call me old-fashioned, but I think if you want this detonator, you're going to have to kill me." There was no bravado in the words, the young woman was making not the slightest attempt to pretend that she was not scared, but she was absolutely sincere.

"Give it to me!" Hamilton shrieked.

"Major?" The gun swung away from Anat's head, then instantly back, as Captain Miller entered the cockpit behind Hamilton.

"Get back there, Captain, and keep the crew under control."

"Y-yes sir," Miller replied. "I just heard…"

"Never mind what you heard. Get back there and carry out your orders!"

"His orders are to wait and pick up Sam and the others," Anat reminded Hamilton.

"That is no longer an option," Hamilton hissed. "Captain?"

"Yes sir." Anat screwed her eyes shut as she heard Miller leave.

"Alright," Hamilton whispered. "If this is how you want it…" The hammer of the pistol clicked back. Anat - whose deeply spiritual upbringing warred constantly with the discovery that the gods she had believed in, herself included, were phoneys - whispered a prayer to anyone who might be listening, asking them to take better care of her friends that she had done.

A violent shock threw Anat's head sideways, and the roar of the gunshot filled the small cockpit with sound. Anat tumbled from her seat, and struck the ground hard. As she did so, the jarring shock along her side became the first intimation that she might not actually be dead, and she struggled to rise against the ringing pain that was numbing her brain.

"Get off me, you bitch!" Hamilton bellowed, and a woman's scream cut through the haze like a knife.  
Anat stood, as Hamilton threw the struggling form of Jack Rede off his back. The diplomat fell awkwardly, and the soldier - face florid, tight with strain and beaded with sweat - rounded on her with his pistol. Anat flung out her hand, focusing her fear and anger through the ribbon device on her hand. She felt a resistance, as her battered mind struggled to muster the force needed to strike out at Hamilton, before a new, bright pain flashed through her, and everything went dark.

*

Astarte had ignored the alarms blaring outside, and was focusing solely on the ritual implantation of the Goa'uld. She chanted in her own language as she removed the sinuous, silvery form of her child-consort from Rehetep's belly, a gaggle of priestly types intoning prescribed responses. Then she passed it before Jack's face, letting it see - or perhaps only sense - his presence.

"Rise now, Jack," Astarte said, switching into English for his benefit. "Rise and accept your place among the Goa'uld." Jack felt her kneel behind him, felt the cool breath of the serpent on the back of his neck. It came closer, and closer.

 _All be over soon,_ he thought. _So very easy_. He forced the thought away, and with all the speed and precision he could muster, he turned, and snatched the writhing Goa'uld from Astarte's hands.

"No!" She cried, enraged and terrified for her child. Jack took advantage of her distraction to drive an awkward punch into her face. Astarte went down, and Jack turned his attention to wrestling with the slippery creature in his hands.

"No!" Rehetep echoed his mistress as he ploughed into Jack, driving him to the floor. The Goa'uld went flying, robed priests scampering after the precious creature.

Jack and Rehetep both scrambled to their feet. The Jaffa drove three punches into Jack's ribs; the first struck like a hammer blow, but the second was weaker and the third Jack hardly felt. He returned a right cross to Rehetep's face, and the Jaffa fell, breathing hard, sweating heavily, his powerful frame collapsing with barely a fight; weak as a kitten without the larva in his belly pouch.

Jack turned, somewhat winded, and made to leave, but someone leaped at him, scratching and punching with little skill but furious energy. He threw off the new attacker, and paused when he saw that it was the girl, Meyn'auc.

"You killed my father!" She accused.

"Meyn'auc," Astarte called, rising to her feet. Behind her, the priests were soothing the Goa'uld. "Bring the prim'ta from the jar by the altar; your father will be well, I promise you." The girl bowed and obeyed, shooting a hateful glare at Jack. "Oh, Jack," Astarte said. "How could you be so thoughtless? That girl looked up to you; and my poor, poor Rehetep."

"I'm sorry," Jack said, surprised to find that he actually meant it. "But I'm also leaving."

He walked towards the door, but Astarte moved to block his way.

"I do not think so," she said. Jack shrugged, and kept moving.

Jack blocked Astarte's first attack, but it was more powerful than he had expected, and he was thrown off balance. He had sparred against Carter and Teal'c, and fought briefly against Master Bra'tac, but Astarte still ranked as one of the best opponents he had ever faced.

They battled for at least a minute, the Jaffa priests circling them, evidently seeking some opening to aid their mistress, before e further commotion distracted them. Jack heard the sounds of a firefight, and was distracted just long enough for Astarte to knock him down. He rolled away from her follow-up, but she kept coming at him, forcing him onto the defensive.

"Astarte!"

 _Was that Teal'c?_ Jack wondered.

"Mistress; beware!" Meyn'auc called out.

Astarte's onslaught stopped, and Jack was able to look up. It certainly was Teal'c, and Sam, Daniel and Amy besides.

"You okay, Colonel?" Sam asked, keeping Rehetep - who seemed to be recovering, slowly - covered with her zat.

"Peachy," Jack replied, once he could draw sufficient breath. "Your timing is excellent, as usual." The Goa'uld intended for him lay unmoving near to Daniel. "What happened to Eric?"

"Eric?" Daniel asked.

"The Eel," Jack explained. "Don't any of you follow sports?"

"He went for me," Daniel said. "So I shot him. Looks like these goads do more damage to Goa'uld than to us."

"No," Astarte moaned. She looked sadly at the body of her child, and then around at her enemies, weighing up the situation. Finally she hung her head. "It would seem that you have won, Jack," she congratulated him, bitterly. "I accept my fate. Finish it."

"Glad to," Amy assured her, levelling her zat.

"No!" Jack interrupted.

"Colonel?" Sam said, confused.

"Is that really you?" Amy asked, suspicious.

"It's him," Sam confirmed. "But, sir…?"

"No. We take her out of here with us. I've got an idea."

"No!" Rehetep protested, trying to advance, but stumbling. Meyn'auc caught his arm to support him.

"It's alright, Rehetep," Astarte told him. "Live now, and do your duty."

Jack seized Astarte by the arm and steered her towards the door. Tan'auc looked as though she were weighing up her chances of stopping them. Evidently she decided they were not good. Sam made to shoot Rehetep, but Meyn'auc stepped in front of him.

"Let it go, Sam," Jack told her, gently. "Let's just get the hell out of here."

"You will die for this, shol'va!" Meyn'auc spat.

"I'm sorry," Jack told her. "Maybe you should get a better role model." He began to lift the medallion from around his neck.

"Keep it," she told him. "To remind you of your treachery." Jack fingered the coin briefly, then let it hang where it was. "I will take it from you when you are dead."

Jack could not pretend that he was not disturbed to hear such venom from a child so young, but he had no time to dwell on it if he wanted to get his people away safely. "Let's move," he said.

_*_

Anat emerged from the cockpit, half-supporting, half-supported by the dazed Rede. Miller and Harper were standing over Jason and Cally. Their weapons were drawn, but they looked unhappy with the entire scenario.

"Jason," Anat said. "Jack and Jacob both need medical attention. Cally; check the cockpit. I think there's an air leak, and I want to be able to breathe in there when we're needed." Her crew stayed sitting, as Miller turned and trained his weapon on Anat.

"Where's Major Hamilton?" The man demanded.

"Hamilton is no longer a player here," Anat told him. Miller brought the gun in tighter to his shoulder.

Anat gently set Rede down, then drew herself up as straight as she could manage. She knew she hardly cut the most imposing figure, with her hair and face singed and powder-burned, a slow trickle of blood running down her neck where the pistol barrel had been dragged across her skin, and still unsteady on her feet from the exertion needed to fire her ribbon device while concussed, but she had not spent sixteen years training to be a goddess without learning how to carry herself. "Major Hamilton disregarded an order from his commanding officer and attempted mutiny on my ship," she told Miller, speaking in a slow, confident voice. "He assaulted a US Diplomat, a foreign ally and a retired Air Force General, and tried to deliberately destroy a spacecraft with two Air Force officers and two civilian advisers on board.

"Right now, I'm prepared to accept that you were following the orders of your CO. I'm prepared to accept that you trusted him not to play you false. That's why I'm giving you a chance to put the guns down and make right." Miller looked doubtful.

"If you do this, now, then we can forget that you had any part in this, because you weren't to blame for Hamilton's madness." Her eyes narrowed, coldly. "But if you perpetuate that madness, then you'd better make damn sure you hit me the first time, or a court martial will be the last thing in the world you'll be worrying about."

Harper maintained just enough presence of mind to unload and clear his weapon, before it clattered to the floor of the main bay. Miller looked less certain, but realised that he had little choice in the matter. He carefully set his weapon on the floor.

"Thank you, Captain," Anat said.

"What do you want us to do now?" Miller asked.

"If either of you can help Jason with the wounded, that will be a good start."

"Harper," Miller instructed. The young lieutenant nodded, and stooped to examine Rede.

"Do you trust me to secure the Major?" Miller asked.

Anat looked him long and hard in the eyes. "Yes," she said, at last. "I trust you."

*

"He will stop you," Astarte told Jack. "Rehetep. You can't escape this ship."

"Shut up," Sam said.

"She's got a point," Jack allowed. "How do we get off this thing?"

"We have a plan," Teal'c assured him.

"A very famous plan," Sam acknowledged.

"They'll have guards on all the transport rings," Jack reminded her.

"I know. We've taken that into account."

As quickly as possible with the captive Astarte and the exhausted Daniel, Teal'c led them through the Ha'tak to the main hangar. It was almost deserted, and the few remaining guards were made short work of. Death gliders lined the hangar, but they were silent and still, their controls dead.

"All these ships are locked down," Jack said. "We can't take them out of here."

"I know," Sam assured him. "Standard safety procedure. Gliders aren't capable of hyperflight, so if they were launched at these speeds, the deceleration would destroy them."

Teal'c, meanwhile, was working at a control panel. With a low hum, the main hangar door opened.

"Why aren't we being sucked out into space?" Daniel asked.

"We're going too fast," Sam explained. "The main door opens forward, and simple inertia means that the air all holds to the back of the compartment, even when it's exposed to vacuum. Simple really."

"Yes," Jack agreed. "Very."

"You can't escape this way," Astarte told them. "What insanity is this!"

"Not insanity," Sam told her, taking out the detonator. "The plan." She pressed the button, and nothing happened.

"That was an anticlimax," Amy commented.

"Not the climax," Sam promised. "Just wait."

"What are we waiting for?" Jack asked Sam. "Other than for the Jaffa hordes to burst through the door behind us."

"Our ride," Sam told him.

"What 'ride'?" Astarte demanded. "No ship could enter through the shield."

"What shield?" Sam asked, innocently.

 

In the generator chamber, Meru'het and Tal'far gaped at the ruin of the generator, as the ruptured conduit cables lashed wildly, carrying unregulated surges of power into all the wrong parts of the machinery.

Tal'far turned to his friend and said: "We are just so very dead."

 

"I think we've got company," Daniel warned. He was sitting by the control panel, facing away from the external hangar doors, and so was the first to see the shadows of the approaching Jaffa.

"Come on, Anat," Sam whispered, gazing out into the void.

"Other side of the panel," Jack ordered. "Quickly." They moved around to the relative shelter of the far side of the panel, readying their weapons as they went.

"The plan kicks in sometime around now?" Jack asked Sam.

"No need to be sarcastic," she retorted, and then the Jaffa were upon them.

The Jaffa did not attack in the usual fashion of simply advancing in wave after wave. Plainly lack of numbers had obliged Astarte to adopt a more cautious battle order, and the Jaffa approached using what little cover was to be had in the hangar, and gave suppressing fire as their comrades moved forward. There were fewer Jaffa than in most such attacks SG-1 had weathered, but they were putting far fewer of them down.

"I'm not sure how much more of this the panel can take!" Sam shouted over the noise of firing.

"There's another panel about twenty metres behind us!" Amy suggested. "We can try and make a break for that."

"Okay; let's do it," Jack said. "Teal'c first with Daniel. I'll follow with Astarte, since I don't want anyone on their own with her; Carter and Kawalsky, we'll cover for you to follow."

Teal'c broke for the second panel, supporting Daniel Jackson, as their comrades rose up firing. He threw the two of them down behind the second panel, where they quickly made ready to cover Jack and Astarte.

Seeing they had made it, Jack seized Astarte's arm and dragged her out form behind the panel. Halfway there, she lashed out with a foot, and Jack stumbled and fell. He looked up as a Jaffa levelled a staff weapon at him, and knew that his hour was pretty much nigh.

And then a miracle happened, as an unseen hand lifted the Jaffa up and smashed him against the rear wall of the hangar. The other Jaffa struggled as if in a high wind, and were sent tumbling and falling across the deck. The air was filled with a high-pitched roar.

"What the hell is this?" Jack asked, as Sam and Amy ran up.

"The plan!" Sam replied.

The wind died down, but as the Jaffa began to recover, gunfire burst out from the empty air at them, forcing them into cover. Moving slightly around, Jack found that an opening appeared; a door in the air, from which four figures were firing on the Jaffa.

Jack approached the opening. "Rede?" He asked, incredulous, recognising one of the shooters, despite the unpleasant set of bruises she had picked up from somewhere.

"Good to see you again, Colonel," the diplomat replied, offering him a hand. Jack climbed up, and Teal'c came round to help him lift Astarte into the hatch. A Jaffa popped up to take a shot at them, and Rede blasted at him with her zat until he ducked back into cover.

"Rede?" Jack asked again, as a strange Jaffa helped Sam into the back of the teltac. "Is that you?" Teal'c handed Daniel up to Jack, then swung himself up into the hatch.

Rede smiled innocently. "Call me Jack," she said.

"What kept you?" Sam asked Jason, her hand resting almost flirtatiously on his arm.

"We had a little trouble, and we were five hundred thousand miles behind you," he reminded her with a small smile.

"Five hundred thousand miles?" Jack asked.

"Basic road safety," Rede told him. "Always keep a gap of at least two seconds to the vehicle in front."

The hatch swung closed, and another backwash from the teltac's engines knocked the Jaffa down as the cargo ship blasted from the Ha'tak's hangar.

*

In the minimal passenger area, Major Hamilton had been bound and handcuffed to a seat. Captain Miller was watching over him, and saluted as Carter and Jack approached. Anat emerged unsteadily from the cockpit as SG-1 came through from the cargo hatch.

"Setesh-ta-Anat," Teal'c greeted her, concerned. "You are hurt."

Anat waved away his concern, but made no protest as he examined the injuries to her face with gentle hands. "I'm good," she said. "We're all still alive; just about."

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"Hamilton went nuts," Anat said. "I mean seriously crazed. There was something wrong with him, and he tried to blow up the ship with you on it. Speaking of which," she added, drawing out the override. "Do you want to do the honours?"

"No!" Astarte cried, lunging towards the control. Jack and Teal'c caught her arms, and Amy drew down on her with the zat.

"What do you even care," Sam challenged her.

"They're _mine_!" Astarte hissed, desperately, that one word, 'mine', carrying a world of meaning. Hers to rule; hers to command; hers to protect; hers to nurture and to teach; hers to punish and control.

"There're kids on that ship," Jack said. "Meyn'auc, Key'ac…"

"There are others. The bulk of my people."

"We can't do it, Carter," Jack told her.

"I know," Sam replied. She opened the back of the detonator, and took out the battery. Then she did the same with her the duplicate control which she carried. "They'll come after us," she reminded him. "We can outrun them now, but they won't thank us for sparing them."

"I know," Jack said.

"Dad!" Sam cried, distracted as her father entered from the cockpit, looking as wobbly as Anat.

"Jacob is fine," Selmak assured her. "But we were struck rather hard, and he is sleeping it off."

"You people are too weird," Jack told him.

"It is a pleasure to see you again as well, Colonel O'Neill," Selmak replied.

Jack grinned at the Tok'ra. "Thanks for the rescue," he said.

"You've Sam to thank for that. She's the CO on this one."

"Way to go, Carter."

"And of course Anat, and Jack."

Jack looked puzzled. "Ja…Oh, yeah. Thanks, Rede."

"Anytime," she assured him.

"And here I though you were some useless geek who spent her whole life reading up on old law cases."

Rede shrugged, unabashed. "Something to do when the fish aren't biting."

"I just realised," Daniel said. "Maybe because I'm still all beat up, but…Anat?"

"What about…?" Jack began. "Oh. Yeah. Really not so good with the alternate universes."

"I should have killed you when I had the chance," Astarte hissed at the girl. "I could have taken you and the Tok'ra before I left our universe."

"I came here to warn you," Anat explained. "What's _she_ doing here?"

"Good question," Daniel admitted, turning to Jack.

"We're going to take her to the nearest Tok'ra base," Jack told them. "And we're going to remove her from her host."

*

The argument over what to do with Astarte had moved to the cockpit, while the crew had gone into the bowels of the ship to ensure the engines did not explode or something. Daniel, too tired to even care, had remained in the passenger area with the subject of the debate and Major Hamilton. Daniel sat opposite Hamilton, and a good way down the bench from Astarte, his eyes drooping.

"Do you know why he turned on you?" Astarte's voice whispered in Daniel's ear. He was dimly aware that she was still some distance from him, but the words seemed close by.

"Shut up, witch," Hamilton snarled, his voice still strained.

"He's probably been waiting for months for an opportunity. Trying to be in the control room when your return, to make sure that the iris stayed closed, perhaps."

"How do you know about the iris?"

"I have my sources," she replied.

"Shut up," Hamilton repeated.

Daniel was more awake now. "What are you talking about?" He asked Astarte.

"Don't listen to her Dr Jackson," Hamilton said.

"Tell me," Daniel said to Astarte.

"He's an agent of Apophis," Astarte said.

"What!"

"It's not true. I'm a patriot," Hamilton protested.

"Well, that's certainly true." Astarte agreed. "He serves the ones who wish to make a pact with the System Lords against the Asgard. As part of their agreement, he's been conditioned to seek the destruction of SG-1 whenever the opportunity presented itself."

"Lies!" Hamilton cried, desperately.

"He probably had several chances to kill Major Carter and the Jaffa, but it must only have been when the possibility of destroying you all at a stroke that the programming took over. He must have known how little chance he had of survival; that is why he acted so strangely." Hamilton started to weep bitter, desperate tears.

"So he's like a Zatarc; he was programmed to kill us."

"Not quite," Astarte corrected. "He is a volunteer, or was at least." Perhaps he even came to respect you; many of your enemies do, although not Apophis."

"How did you know?" Daniel asked.

"Something about the eyes and face can reveal this type of programming. It is a speciality of Apophis; they call it the Serpent Gaze. It is most powerful, but does not work on the unwilling. Unlike Zatarc conditioning, which makes a person do something against their will, this merely pushes a willing servant to do more than they might otherwise."

"It's not true," Hamilton whispered, without conviction. "It's not true."

"I can prove it to you," Astarte said.

"How?"

*

The debate was raging fiercely, and Amy was beginning to grow angry. How could Jack want to save anything of the monster who had tortured Daniel, nearly killed her, and tried to put a Goa'uld in him? Could she really be so special that he would try to save her, when he had simply given in and killed his best friend?

Amy took a deep breath to steady herself. Even she knew that such comparisons were unfair, but that did not make her feel any better. She looked around the room, seeking a sympathetic face.

"Where's Daniel?" She asked Sam.

"In the main area," the Major replied. "Resting."

In the main area. Where _She_ was. Anxious, Amy got up and slipped out of the cockpit, closing the door behind her. As she turned to face into the passenger bay, what she saw made her want to scream, but the sound caught in her throat.

Hamilton sat still as stone, staring in horror at the Goa'uld, and Amy could well understand why. She had seen the Goa'uld in the Shrine of Asar, and pictures of the larvae carried by the Jaffa, but this was something else. Just for starters, it was huge.

A good six feet of silvery body was coiled around Daniel's shoulders, its frilled hood spread behind his head. The last foot of its length lay over his head like a crown, its cruel, claw-like jaws opening and closing in front of his forehead. In a flash of insight, Amy knew that this was where the crown of pharaoh came from, with its serpent head its and collar. The tail of the beast vanished behind Daniel's back. Daniel's head turned slowly towards her, and his eyes flared white.

"Hello, dear Amy," Astarte said.

"No!" Amy shrieked, enraged. She snatched the zat'nik'tel from her belt, and fired at the alien, where it rose above Daniel's head.

She was quick to the draw, she knew she was, but Astarte it seemed was quicker. In a blur of silver, her body uncoiled from Daniel's body, and darted across the bench towards the recumbent, peaceful form of her old host. As the tail whiplashed from the back of his neck, Daniel shuddered, the glow in his eyes dying. The host's eyes opened and burned white, but Amy's attention was focused entirely on Daniel.

"Daniel!" She knelt in front of him and clasped his hands in hers. "Daniel; are you alright."

"Yes," he replied. "Yes, I think I'm…I'm fine." His brow furrowed in concern. "But there're things…"

The cockpit door burst open, and Jack ran out, Sam right behind him, their weapons drawn but held down.

"What's going on out here?" Jack demanded.

"She…" Amy began. "She was…"

"Astarte tried to break free of her restraints," Daniel said. He looked into Amy's eyes, imploring her to say nothing more. "I was half asleep; I panicked, and that freaked Amy."

Amy frowned, unhappily. "Yeah. That's all it was," she said.

*

"Alright, Daniel!" Amy demanded. They had moved further into the cargo area of the ship. "What the hell was that about? You panicked? I saw her. She was trying to get inside you, damnit; you spoke to me and it was _her_!"

"I know," Daniel replied. "And it scares the hell out of me, but…Something weird's going on, Amy. She left me…something. Memories, I think. I need to know if those memories are true or false before I'll know what they mean."

"True or…"

"I think it's very likely that Astarte is lying to me," he said. "But this is too important to take the risk of ignoring it. I can sort this out at the Tok'ra base, but until then I don't want anyone else to know. This could be a conspiracy that goes to the heart of the government; maybe higher."

"Isn't that a little X-Files?" Amy asked, but Daniel did not look amused.

"We've seen it before. The rogue NID teams had backing to the Senate; maybe higher. I trust my team, but I can't be sure now about the rest of SG-14, so I couldn't say anything in front of them. But I don't want to accuse anyone until I'm sure there's something to accuse," he added.

"You may be over thinking this," Amy told him. "She's probably just screwing with you."

"I know. But I'll know for sure after we reach the Tok'ra base." He drew a deep breath, and laid a hand on Amy's shoulder. "Meantime…Can you keep an eye on me. Make sure I don't do anything screwy like pop the airlock mid flight."

"Of course," Amy promised, with genuine concern. "But…Do you trust me."

Daniel nodded. "I've known you for what? Three years, on and off. I know we've not been close, but I think I've seen enough to trust you." Amy smiled, warmly.

"Thanks."

"And you probably saved my life today."

"Major Carter and Teal'c were almost there," Amy reminded him, bashfully.

Daniel kissed her gently on the cheek; a friendly kiss, nothing more. "Well. It's the thought that counts."

*

The Tok'ra were - as ever - not exactly glad to see SG-1, but careful not to show it too much. They were plainly unhappy at the presence of not just one, but two Jaffa, despite the assurances that Jason's symbiote was of Tok'ra pedigree. Selmak's presence reassured the Council however, and the Tau'ri were made welcome, while Astarte was confined to a cell. Daniel made his apologies to the others, saying he had to look up an old friend. Jack meanwhile petitioned the Council to remove the symbiote from Astarte's host.

"Why do you wish this?" Asked Meruk, a Tok'ra councillor. Jack had never met him before, but like most of the Tok'ra, he found that he did not like him.

"Why don't you ask your better half?" Jack asked. "He might understand a little thing called compassion; right, Carter?"

Sam looked away, awkwardly, saying nothing. She trusted Jack, but she knew that he had his own reasons for this - whatever they might be - and that in this case his usually impassioned and sincere humanist bluster was just that.

"Look," Jack said, in more measured tones. "All I'm saying, is that if we have a chance to free an innocent girl from carrying a Goa'uld, we should take it. Isn't that what we're about?"

"It is," Meruk agreed. "I merely wondered why this one, and not others?"

"Because we were able to get this one out," Jack replied. "We don't often get the chance, but she was understaffed and we got lucky." He sighed. "Please," he added.

Meruk nodded. "Of course," he said. "We will begin at once."

*

"Well, Daniel," Anise said. "You certainly have no traces of anything approximating Zatarc conditioning, and I think we both know enough to know that the Serpent's Gaze would be useless against you." Daniel sat on Anise's examining table. His shirt hung open, a Tok'ra biomonitor had been attached to his chest, and the Zatarc detector had been set up in front of him.

"What's the Serpent's Gaze?" Amy asked, from her seat near to the door.

Anise shot her an irritated look. "A technique used for conditioning willing servants to unthinking obedience," the Tok'ra archaeologist replied. "Which, yes, does appear to have been used on Major Hamilton," she added, talking to Daniel once again.

"How can you tell?" Amy asked, in all honesty more to annoy the porcelain-faced, glow-eyed woman than for information's sake.

"There's a certain tightness around the eyes, and sporadic dilating and contraction of the pupils," Daniel answered her. "If the conditioning is invoked to force a subject to act to some degree against his or her will, then the stress symptoms we saw in Major Hamilton - sweating, colouring of the skin, panic attacks, heightened aggression and so on - are common, followed by a state of confusion or sometimes outright denial, and I actually didn't know any of this when I woke up this morning."

"It sounds as though Astarte genuinely has left some of her memories in your mind," Anise admitted. "The biomonitor shows only trace quantities of naquada in your bloodstream, probably not sufficient for you to be able to utilise Goa'uld technology or to detect the presence of nearby symbiotes…"

"Well, I can't sense yours," Daniel admitted. "So that's a fair assumption."

"You seem to have a perfectly normal - if rather nice - physiology still, and your brain activity is normal. You certainly have not inherited her life memories as Major Carter did with Jolinar; all you have is a scar on your neck, and whatever memories she left to you."

"But is it true?" Daniel pressed.

"I think so," Anise replied. "Yes," she added, cheerily. "I am certain."

"Damnit!"

"I'm sorry, Daniel," Anise said, confused. "I would have thought that was what you wanted to hear?"

"That's because I haven't told you what I remember," Daniel replied, ominously.

*

Anat found Teal'c wondering on the surface of Vorash. The Jaffa appeared to have no particular destination in mind, and indeed there were precious few destinations at all on this bleak and blasted desert world.

"If I didn't know better," Anat said. "I might almost think you were avoiding me."

"Not you, Setesh-ta-Anat," Teal'c assured her.

"The Tok'ra don't much care for you?" Anat guessed. Teal'c merely shrugged, looking away, awkwardly. "They don't see you as I do."

Teal'c turned to look at her. "What do you mean, Anat?"

"I mean…I mean, I don't plan to go home with the others. I've been about in this world long enough to know that there's no double of me, and the resistance back home is strong enough to do without me now. So I've decided I want to stay here." She touched her fingers gently to Teal'c chest. "With you."

"Anat," Teal'c said, gently.

"I mean. If you'll have me."

*

"You've come for the execution, haven't you?" Astarte asked. A very nervous Tok'ra woman appeared to be completing a physical examination of the Goa'uld.

"We are going to remove you from your host," Meruk told her. "That is if...?" He turned to the Tok'ra woman.

"The host appears to be in excellent condition," the woman assured him. "Cellular degradation is minimal; she should have every chance of living a full life. She must be a new host..."

"She is a very old host," Astarte said, coolly. The Tok'ra flinched at her tone. "I have merely taken good care of myself," Astarte told her. She fixed the woman with her gaze, and the Tok'ra wilted. "You may leave now, doctor," she said, and the woman fled, barely remembering to look to Meruk for confirmation.

"You understand that you will receive no replacement host. You will die not long after you are removed?" Meruk asked.

"Longer than you think," Astarte told the Tok'ra. She stood, and approached him, the chain fastening her to the wall pulling taught behind her. "You are a little creature, renegade," she said, staring into his eyes. She waved her arm and the chain rattled, making Meruk jump.

"Why did you not join us," Meruk said, struggling to hide his fear. "You claim to oppose the System Lords…"

"No, Tok'ra. I opposed the System Lords. They" - she pointed past him to jack and Sam - "oppose the System Lords. _You_ merely claim."

"We have brought down many of the System Lords," Meruk protested.

"I brought down the Astarte of this world, and Helios, alone. They destroyed Ra and have confounded half a dozen others with all the limits of their technology and understanding. With no agents whatsoever in his camp, and no Goa'uld technology, they brought an end to the Goa'uld who so terrifies you that his name still defines your movement. You are little creatures," she repeated. "And have no right to judge me."

"You are our prisoner…"

"Silence!" Meruk fell silent at once. "Jack," Astarte called, gently. "I am _your_ prisoner. If sentence is to be passed, then let it be by you."

"We're going to take you out of your host," Jack said. "We won't give you another."

Astarte nodded. "I have a last request," she told him. "Or rather two. I would like to be returned to my pool, beneath Mount Ophesta on Arcadia once I am removed, to be left there to die. You may seal the chamber on me if you are afraid I might hope to take a new host. Or if that is not acceptable, I would like my remains to be lain to rest there."

"I though a dead Goa'uld broke down too rapidly to leave much in the way of a body?"

Sam interjected. Astarte did not appear to take offence. "I am older by far than any other Goa'uld," she said. "I am not quite like them; the last of the line of Asar. There will be enough."

"I'll do all I can," Jack promised. "But you said two things."

"Yes," Astarte replied. "I would like you to look after Menea, if she will let you."

"Menea?"

"My host," Astarte explained. "Does it surprise you that I know her name?" She asked Meruk. "Did you think I would not have found out?"

"Why do you care what becomes of her?" Meruk asked.

As before, Astarte answered simply: "Because she is _mine_."

"I'll take care of her," Jack promised.

"Thank you Jack," Astarte said.

"That's it?" Sam asked. "No threats? No pleading? No offers of technology and power in exchange for a new host?"

Astarte smiled benevolently, looking for all the world like an proud mother. "I do not believe that I can rule in this world; and I do not know how to follow. I stand by my claim, that the Tok'ra can never hope to stand against the System Lords; to protect those they would 'liberate'. But you…Perhaps you can."

She knelt on the floor at Jack's feet. "There is no dishonour in defeat," she said. "Not if the opponent is worthy. It is my time."

"We will begin the procedure…" Meruk began.

"No procedures," Astarte interrupted. Then, to Jack's horror, the wound at the back of her neck reopened, and the great Goa'uld slithered free of her mammalian home.

"Oh. My. God." Sam whispered.

"Alas not," Astarte said, speaking still through the lips of her host. "For with worshippers such as you, what could I not have done?" The claw-head turned to Jack. "It is time."

*

Sam left Jack in the cell, to wait for the host to wake up, and carried the stasis tank which held the writhing body of the Astarte symbiote back to their assigned quarters.

"Holy crap!" Anat exclaimed, almost running into Sam and her cargo, staring in amazement at the giant Goa'uld.

"Tell me about it," Sam agreed. "I'd love to take this home to study, but Jack promised to lay her to rest on Arcadia."

"That's nice," Anat said, distractedly.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"Oh yes," Anat said, voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. "I'm great. Why wouldn't I be, except that _Teal'c is_ _married_?" Her anger grew as she spoke, but at the end dissolved into floods of tears. Sam set the tank down and awkwardly cradled the younger woman in her arms.

"You knew!" Anat accused, trying to pull away from Sam. "You could have said something before I…!"

"Before you what?" Sam coaxed gently, as Anat relented and allowed her self to sink, weeping against her.

"I told him I wanted to stay here with him," she managed, between sobs. "He said he had a wife and son, and he'd been in love with someone else, but she died."

Sam gently stroked Anat's hair, as though she were a child. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know you wanted to stay. I would have said something if I'd had any idea…"

Sam shushed and cuddled Anat until she finished crying, then helped her straighten herself out.

"I'm a mess," Anat said.

"I'm not much better," Sam assured her. "I tend to fall for the unattainable as well. Tok'ra; Tollan; Jaffa from another dimension."

"I'm sorry," Anat said. "I…I'd like to offer you some hope, but I know Jason won't stay."

"Oh, I know that," Sam said. "Story of my life. I thought I'd talk to him though; before you go."

"Better hurry," Anat said. "I've got to talk to Daniel; I've got a message from Josephine. After that, I think we're going to make a move."

*

"So how well do you know that woman?" Amy asked. She and Daniel had been walking, and talking about his new memories, for some time, and the conversation drifted back to Anise every now and then.

"We've met often enough that I've come to trust her. She's not always open with us, an on occasion she's used us, but she's also displayed genuine concern for our efforts and our wellbeing. Plus she's an archaeologist, so we've got a lot to talk about."

"Uh huh. You do a lot of…talking?"

"Amy!"

"Sorry," she said. "Bad day all over. Just seems everyone's got further with you that I have."

"That's not true."

"Anise got your shirt off. Astarte got you in chains. All those times you helped me out with my university work, I never managed either."

"Call me nuts; I figured you wanted my help with your work because you wanted my help with your work," Daniel replied. "And you were my student…kind of."

"And a friend's sister. I get it," Amy assured him. "I don't like it, but I get it."

"Sorry."

"I'll live. Assuming the powers that be don't sell us out to Apophis," she added. "Are you going to tell the others?"

"Of course," Daniel replied. "And General Hammond. I just don't know who else to trust yet."

"Why did she give you all this?" Amy asked. "Astarte? I mean, she didn't seem the philanthropic type."

"I don't think she was," Daniel replied. "But I think…I think she told herself it was a spite shot, against Apophis. A last hurrah against her ancient enemy. But I touched her mind, just for a second or two, and I think she honestly just despises us a lot less than the System Lords."

"Are you sure you can trust all of your team?" Amy asked, out of nowhere.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Daniel asked.

"You've gotta admit," Amy said. "The Colonel's acting pretty funny about Astarte."

"Maybe. But that'll be over soon, and he's got his head screwed on tight about Apophis. Besides which…" He broke off, thinking back over something. "Chains?"

"What?"

"You wanted to put me in chains?" Daniel asked, incredulous.

"Only if you were up for it," she assured him.

_*_

Jack sat watching the young woman, Menea, who had been Astarte's host. She was sleeping peacefully, her mouth slightly open, and she was without question one of the most beautiful women Jack had ever seen. Certainly prettier than Hathor.

As she began to stir, Jack crouched beside her. "Hey," he said, as her eyes flickered open. "Welcome back to the world."

"It's…you," the girl said, drawing up into a sitting position.

"Uh. Yeah," Jack affirmed.

The dark eyes hardened. "Where is she?" Menea demanded.

"What? Who?" Jack asked, sitting back a little, startled by the harshness of her tone.

"The goddess? Astarte!" She explained, as though Jack were a simpleton. "What have you done with her? Where have you taken her?" Fear and anger were rapidly building to panic.

"It's okay," Jack promised. "She's gone. She'll go back to her pool on Arcadia to die."

The woman's response was not what Jack would have expected. With a feral cry, she flung herself headlong at Jack, her hands grappling for his eyes. She was strong and healthy, but luckily for Jack lacked Astarte's superb skill in combat, or he might well have lost his sight there and then.

"Murderer!" She screamed. "Blasphemer! You took her from us! We will kill you!"

Jack pushed her away, and to his horror she began to beat her head against the wall, leaving smears of red where she struck. He caught hold of her and grappled her to the ground, holding her tightly as he cried for help.

*

Leaving Astarte under guard in their quarters, Sam went on board the Hope and sought out Jason in his quarters.

"Sam. What brings you here?" Jason asked, although he knew full well. He looked rather down about it as well.

"Just came to say goodbye," she replied. "And maybe just talk for a little while?"

"Uh. Sure," Jason said. "D'you want to come in?"

"Thanks; yeah. You got anything to drink?"

Jason's room was something of a shambles, a desk cluttered with bits and pieces of various mechanisms, the floor strew with papers - and the concealed minefield of further bits of mechanism buried beneath the papers - and the bed unmade. Sam felt at home immediately.

As Sam entered, Jason hastened to straighten the bed, giving her somewhere to sit. He rummaged in the desk drawers, and produced a bottle of scotch, a chipped tumbler and a mug with no handle. He poured two large measures, and handed the glass to Sam, then sat in the desk chair.

"Thanks," she said.

"Seventeen year old malt," Jason told her. "Very good stuff. Cally picked up a few bottles to take home with us; we're a little short on decent whiskey in our universe." He smiled, a little shyly, and took a big swig of his Scotch.

"So…Anat says you're in love with someone else," Sam said, jumping straight in with both feet.

Jason choked on his whiskey. "She does?"

"Yeah. But when I'm around you…"

Jason nodded. "I know what you mean," he said. "And I'm sorry. It's just so…it's so confusing, being around you. You're so beautiful" - Sam blushed - "and confident and clever, and you're…you, but…" He took another swig, draining the mug, then poured himself another.

"If I was in love with someone else it would be easier," he told her. "But I'm not. I'm in love with you, and I have been since the day I first met you, five months ago."

Sam drained her glass and held it out to be refilled. "I think I may need to be drunk for this," she confessed.

Jason reached into his desk, and pulled out a framed photograph. I very clearly showed Sam, dressed in the navy blue uniform of a military organisation which she did not recognise. The rank insignia were also unfamiliar.

"Who…?" She asked, without thinking.

"Captain Samantha Carter," Jason replied. "Commander in Chief of the United Earth Defence Force Science Corps."

"The what now?"

"After the Goa'uld bombarded Earth, Dr Carter went through a quantum mirror to escape the invasion of Cheyenne Mountain and the SGA…"

"Wait. This is the Sam Carter who came to us for asylum?"

"Perhaps," Jason said. Whether you were precisely the Sam Carter that this one came to at the time or not, you are now one of many…"

"Jason!" He looked up at her. "I understand the math."

"Sorry. I should know that. Yes, more or less this is that Sam Carter."

"I like what she's done with her hair."

Jacob smiled. "So did I," he said. "I understand she modelled it on you." His face sobered somewhat. "After you brought the Asgard to their aid, the SGA persuaded them to help create the UEDF. General Hammond and General Kawalsky formed the initial military high command, and brought in all that remained of the old national armies and militias. Sam joined up, and was given the rank of Captain, taking charge of all defence research and development."

Jason dug around in his desk again, and produced another photograph; it was full of familiar faces. There was no Jack of course, but there was Daniel, dressed in a black uniform and greatcoat, his arm around the shoulders of a woman she recognised as Amy Kawalsky. Cally was standing next to Amy's brother, and both Kawalskys were wearing uniforms like the one the other Sam had on. There was Anat. And there was Jason, standing next to that Sam, the two of them with their arms around each other.

"We were stranded there for three months when the Hope was downed by one of your…of the Science Corps' orbital defence satellites."

"We had orbital defences?"

"Well, you pretty much had the whole budget of Earth to stave off the Goa'uld, and the SGA dedicated to bringing back potential weapons." Sam shuddered at the thought that the other her might be party to that kind of activity.

"What's Daniel doing there?" She asked, to distract herself. "I thought he didn't join the Stargate programme."

"He didn't. Then when the aliens he'd denied the existence of wiped out his home and killed his pregnant wife…"

"Oh, God."

"…He joined the UEDF as a translator, researcher and commissar."

"Commissar?"

"A political officer. He didn't like us much at first."

Sam shook her head in wonder. "Well…I guess that explains a few things about you," she said, sadly.

"I'm really sorry," Jason said. "I mean, I feel I'm making you out to be second best here, but…"

"But I'm really just second."

Jason shrugged helplessly.

*

Daniel sat alone on a hillside, watching the Hope depart. It was not using its cloak, so that the Tok'ra could be sure it was away. Daniel was mired deep in a melancholy funk, glancing from time to time at an envelope in his hands, then up after the departing teltac.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Jack offered, approaching behind him. He sounded as cheerful as Daniel felt.

"I think they're probably worth a little more than that just at the moment," Daniel replied.

"How 'bout I tell you my woes, and you tell me yours?"

"Sounds fair," Daniel said, still not looking around. "Won't you pull up a chair?"

Jack sat on the rocks next to him. "You want me to go first?"

"Okay."

"Right then." He paused for a long time.

"I'm a dad," Daniel told him.

"I thought I was going…you're a dad?"

Daniel nodded, and slipped an old-fashioned, sepia photograph from the envelope. It showed a beautiful, dark-haired woman, holding a beautiful, dark-haired baby.

"Danielle Hope Jackson," Daniel said. "They named her after me, and named the teltac after her. There's apparently no question she's mine, and I will never see her."

"Wow."

"Your turn."

"Right. It turns out that when Astarte said her host made a sacrifice for her people, she wasn't just sounding off. Menea volunteered to become the vessel of her 'goddess', in exchange for Astarte's protection of her people, and now she hates me for taking the goddess out of her. The Tok'ra have her restrained and under sedation until they can find something to do with her. I'm thinking maybe some serious professional therapy.

"I guess I understand," Jack admitted. "I mean, everyone she knew was dead, and now we've taken away the thing that gave her life meaning, broken as that sounds. I don't know what I expected…"

"I do," Daniel told him.

"You do?"

"Uh-huh. You were just a little bit in love with Astarte and you hoped you'd find out that what you loved was some reflection of the host."

"Wow," Jack said again. "How did you know that?"

"I barely met her," Daniel said. "But I was a little bit in love with Amaunet. I told myself I was just seeing my wife around her, but there was a bit of me couldn't help loving the Goa'uld inside, even though I hated myself for it."

"And I thought my life sucked," Jack said.

"Oh it does," Daniel assured him. "Mine just sucks more."

"I'll see your sucks, and raise you a blows," Sam told them, coming up form behind them. "Mind if I join you guys?"

"The more the moroser," Jack replied.

"Tha's not a word," Sam accused.

Jack looked round. "Sam; are you drunk?"

Sam plopped herself down between Jack and Daniel. "Not near drunk enough," she said, taking a long swig from the mouth of Jason's bottle of scotch. "Drinky?" She offered.

"Oh yeah," Jack said, accepting the bottle and drinking deep. "Daniel?" The archaeologist took a long drink as Jack turned to Sam and asked: "So what's your blow?"

"I met a guy I really liked, and it turns out he's sweet on another me who's a weapons designer in a fascist military."

"Wow," Daniel and Jack chorused. Daniel took another drink and handed the bottle back to Sam.

"Thanks. Oh, and you're a like this SS commissar."

"No way," Daniel protested.

"Way. And you're boffing Amy Kawalsky."

"He's what!"

"Not him he," Sam assured Jack. "Nazi he."

"Speaking of Amy," Jack said, trying to change the subject as he accepted his turn with the bottle. "Any idea why she's not speaking to me?"

"She's upset you wanted to try and save Astarte's host, but never tried to save her brother," Daniel explained. "I mean, she gets that you didn't know the Tok'ra at the time, but she's having some trouble dealing emotionally. She won't talk to me now because she's embarrassed about the whole cuddlemonkey business, and we had a fight because she wants to chain me up."

Jack took a double pull on the bottle. "I'm pretty sure I was too sober to be hearing any of that," he said.

"We're going to need another bottle," Daniel commented.

"Got two," Sam assured them, pulling one of them from inside her jacket. "You know my problem?" She asked, rhetorically. "I don't fall for the wrong guys; just the right guys in the wrong circumstances."

"The difference being?" Daniel asked.

"Unlike you two, who fall for the wrong girls, I never get laid."

Jack looked over his shoulder. "Hey Teal'c!" He called, seeing the Jaffa approach. "Come join us in misery!"

"I am already there, Jack O'Neill," Teal'c assured him. "I believe I have irreparably broken the heart of someone I care about."

"She'll bounce back, Teal'c," Sam promised him. "It won't be easy for her, but she'll do it. Have a drink."

"My symbiote does not react well to alcohol," Teal'c reminded them, "and I do not wish to deprive you."

"Hail to the Jaffa!" Jack shouted, raising the bottle in toast. He shook his head, dizzily. "Man this is good stuff."

"I think the air on this planet's also kinda thin," Sam said. "Or thick? Whichever makes you get drunk quicker. Thin, I think, but I'm too drunk to be sure."

"I'm fine," Daniel told them, almost managing to be convincing. "I'm an archaeologist; my brain cells grew strong through regular dousings in grain alcohol at college."

"Hah!" Jack cried. "A challenge! My friend, I can drink you under the table any time. Except now, because there is no table."

 

SG-1 sat on the hill, drinking scotch form another dimension, until long after night had fallen. Teal'c sat ramrod straight, while the others slipped further and further into recumbence.

Daniel suggested they should find a table, since it was unclear whether he or Jack was ahead in the drinking contest.

Sam insisted she was too mature for such shenanigans, failing three times to pronounce shenanigans correctly, and matching them drink for drink.

At last, as they lay in the dark, all but unconscious, Daniel spoke up.

"Hey, guys?" He slurred. "Did I mention that there's a conspiracy to sell out the Earth to Apophis?"

 


End file.
